


love won’t stop this bomb

by gottabewhatomorrowneeds



Series: i’ll give you all the nails you need [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Canonical Character Death, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Magic, Nonbinary Party Poison, Nonbinary Show Pony, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Religious Content, Single Parents, Temporary Character Death, Underage Drinking, everyone is there’s but not not as main characters, i have a thing for nbs seducing god, i mean canon has no comptehensible timeline so maybe it is, if u need anything tagged let me know, im going to singlehandedly full up the party Poison/Phoenix Witch tag, jet star is shit at naming things, mark my fucking words, not edited, tbh...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-30 09:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21425998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottabewhatomorrowneeds/pseuds/gottabewhatomorrowneeds
Summary: Party Poison is a curious character, and Fun Ghoul intends to unravel every mystery they’ve got, starting from the beginning to the end.
Relationships: Party Poison (Danger Days)/Phoenix Witch (Fabulous Killjoys)
Series: i’ll give you all the nails you need [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622683
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	love won’t stop this bomb

**Author's Note:**

> “the average killjoy dies three times in their life" factoid actually is just a statistical error. the average killjoy dies only once in their lifetime. Party Poison, who has died twenty nine times in their life, is an outlier and should not have been counted.

Fun Ghoul isn’t sure how he got roped into this mess, really. Well, that’s not entirely true. He knows exactly how he got in, but really all he wants to know is why it had to be him that this happened to.

He sits in the back seat of an old van, listening to the radio thrum out hot beats from days before the wars. He’s a little angry, as always, and is watching the desert pass by as Jet Star lazily flicks a cigarette butt out the window. 

The Terrific Three (name still pending; currently proposed by Jet Star and otherwise used without contest until they find a better one) are on a road trip. Kobra Kid has learned that his sibling or whatever, maybe it was cousin, has escaped Battery City and is currently trying to find them. Dr. D gave them a tip, saying a person by Kobra’s description was seen somewhere near Zone Four.

Fun Ghoul isn’t trying to be an asshole, but really, he could care less about Kobra’s missing sibling. Being bound by blood means nothing in the desert, not since BLi began to split up children in order to dismantle the effects of a blood bond. And Fun Ghoul doesn’t have any siblings of his own. He just doesn’t get why Kobra Kid seems so willing to throw away everything to find this bastard.

Besides, aren’t they perfectly good brothers? They’ve known each other for years now, isn’t he and Jet Star worth something?

The car suddenly slams to a stop.

Fun Ghoul picks up from his slouched position, hand hovering over his gun. Jet Star is craning his neck, and Kobra Kid is already unbuckling his seat belt.

“Come on,” Kobra orders, and that’s rare. Kobra’s never one to give directions. It’s always Jet that makes the decisions, and usually, they’re more like suggestions. “There’s a raid going on.”

Fun Ghoul, never one to back down from a potential fight, obliges. Jet Star moves after a moment, seeming unsure. He’s not one for fighting despite his devastating aim.

They leave the car and sprint to the now visible cluster of BLi sanctioned white vans. Strange. They’re pretty close, and Ghoul doesn’t hear any laser fires. No screams of anguish, no crunching of sand, no sound in the entire desert except for his breathing.

They find out why.

The place is abandoned completely. The only people there are them, a few Drac corpses, and probably some lingering ghosts. The only living person for miles is them.

They inspect the damage. One of the cars is still on fire, though it appears to have been burning for quite some time- it’s completely charred. The Dracs were shot cleanly and precisely- the person or people obviously were clean shots like Jet. But that’s not the most interesting thing.

No, it’s the other two vans that garner some attention.

They were doused completely in paint, covered in an array of strange patterns. The contrast between the rainbow of colours and the intense designs nearly makes Fun Ghoul disoriented. In big, bright and bold letters, a name seemed to have been spelled, but it wasn’t one Ghoul recognised.

“Party Poison?” He read out loud. “Jet, you heard of this bastard?”

Jet Star frowns. He was born and raised in the desert and has connections with almost every single person in the entire community of desert dwellers. “I’ve never heard of them.”

Kobra Kid is staring at the Dracs. “This has to have been the work of one person. The way the lasers pierce the Dracs in the same exact place- I doubt too many people have the skill to perfectly hit a Drac’s eye every time, and it’s difficult for this to be replicated unless they’ve all had training like that. The likelihood of a gang all shooting in the same place every time and with the same skill level this person has? Improbable.”

“There’s no way one person did all this damage.” Fun Ghoul couldn’t believe what Kobra was saying. “No way. Even two people couldn’t kill this many Dracs.”

Jet Star stares at the name scrawled on the van. “I don’t know. This definitely isn’t a gang name, and there’s no reason for only one name to be scrawled. Kobra might be right.”

“Whatever. Who cares? Your sibling isn’t here. Let’s go home.” Fun Ghoul’s feeling antsy and irritable. Antsy at being out in the open and irritable that there was no fight for him to partake in. 

There’s a strange gleam in Kobra Kid’s eyes as they leave the scene.

-

Reports of a one-man army named Party Poison becomes the new local frenzy. The bastard really is only one person, and really is capable of taking down fleets of Dracs by themself. Soon, instead of a name whispered haphazardly out of curiosity to know more, their name becomes a wildfire, consuming people’s minds and conversations as their popularity rises.

They’re a pretty strange guy. They appear during village raids when BLi tries to systematically kill as many people as possible by hitting the villages, and they manage to take down every Drac. They help people defend themselves from wandering Dracs searching for a fight. They ward off exterminators from popular racing sites. They’ve become some sort of patron saint to the people of the desert. If they were a saint, Ghoul would place them as the patron saint of switchblade fights, because that bastard sure is busy fighting.

But they do so much more than just kill Dracs. They’re some sort of an artist apparently, and a pretty good one. They love painting huge displays on the scenes of crimes and love the colour red. Every van they trash gets painted anew.

The bastard takes it one step further, though. 

Fun Ghoul sits by the radio, listening to Dr. D’s smooth voice. It was traffic report time, a sort of cynical skit he puts on since roads are usually empty. Fun Ghoul’s rewiring a bomb and hoping desperately Dr. D will get back to his music- he was putting on a Paramore marathon, and while Ghoul would rather die than admit that that was what he was waiting for, it definitely was.

Suddenly, Dr. Death Defying cut himself off. If Ghoul listened closely, he could hear a door slam and a few papers get shuffled. Show Pony’s murmur could be heard, but their words were muffled.

Fun Ghoul sets down the bomb. Kobra Kid looks up from his magazine. Jet Star twirls a wrench in the air, idly forgetting about the van he was trying to spruce up.

“Breaking news, fellow conspirators. I’ve got something shiny and fresh, and you’re not gonna believe me when I tell you the 411.”

Breaking news? There’s never breaking news. Never. News never travels fast enough for that. 

“Battery City has been broken into by a killjoy. The killjoy supposedly snuck in, blew up part of a weapons facility in the south section of the city, and graffitied the other part. In their signature fashion, they drew a grotesque and laughable caricature of a dead Director and the phrase ‘Art is the weapon’. The killjoy wasn’t caught and was seen fleeing the scene. Now here’s the kicker my fellow crash queens and motor babies. I’m sure you already know who did this. Party Poison is currently being cited as the single perpetrator, and let it be known BLi is raising pitchforks and torches against them. Party Poison, if you’re listening, I hope you recognise the target you just painted on your back. That’s all for tonight kiddos. What better to end this than with a song that matches the mood? Demolition Lovers, coming up next. Dr. D, signing off until the next gossip report.”

The sound of a bass filled the air, but otherwise, the entire diner was absolutely silent. They stared at each other, three sets of equally wide eyes staring into each other’s as they process the story Dr. D just spilled.

“Holy shit?” Fun Ghoul breathes. “That... that crazy bastard actually...”

“They snuck into Battery City, blew up part of a building, painted some satire of the Director, and made it out with their life?” Jet Star was shaking his head like he was trying to get something out. “What the fuck?”

Kobra Kid looked strangely excited. His eyes glimmered behind his aviators, and he looked like he was practically glowing. He usually didn’t emote this much, but with every report of Party Poison, he got closer to actually expressing an emotion. 

“Has BLi’s defenses lowered? Or does Party Poison just know that much about BLi to be able to pull this shit off?”

“Maybe they have the Witch’s blessing,” Jet mused. “Their luck has to be supernatural.”

Fun Ghoul spent the rest of the day thinking about the strange rebel. There’s no way this could be happening in their lifetime. There’s no way BLi stands such a strong chance of crumbling.

-

“Okay,” Jet Star says. It’s three weeks after the news story, and Dr. D just reported on another sighting of Party Poison spray painting on the militarist propaganda on the east side of the city. “We have to get Party Poison to join us.”

“God, yes. But how?”

“We have to find them.” Kobra hums. “While we’re searching for my sibling, we can still try and find them. Two birds in one stone.”

“You’re still on about your sibling?” Ghoul shrugs at Kobra’s glare. “I’m just saying, it’s been, like, nine months since you found out they left Battery City. Who knows where the fuck they could be at this point.”

Nine months at this point means they’ve either been ghosted (which, Ghoul would not dare say. Kobra Kid will use his karate moves on him and Ghoul does not want a repeat of the last time he suggested his sibling might be dead), or they’ve settled down in some niche area and just don’t want to be found.

Plus, there’s probably a big chunk of time before the news of them leaving and the time they actually left. News is pretty slow out in the desert. 

“I’m not giving up.” Kobra’s eyes narrow. “Trust me, when you meet them, you’ll understand.”

Ghoul does trust Kobra. Hell, he trusts him with his life. But god damn, his sibling better be one hell of a killjoy, akin to Party Poison, or else Ghoul will strangle him.

Ghoul sighs and lets the topic go. Best not to rile up Kobra. “Alright, alright. But at this point, can we make Party Poison the actual priority? No offense, but I’m pretty sure they’d be a better asset.”

Kobra’s eyes glimmer. “Fine.”

-

They chase after the bastard for months and months. The bastard is chaotic, appearing at the strangest of places and times. Descriptions of them vary, too, which isn’t helpful in the slightest. Some who have encountered them say they have hair as bright as a dandelion and others say as red as blood. They hide their faces behind a yellow mask, and no one seems to know anything at all about them.

It’s a bit strange that this person has been in the desert for at least a year now, and yet no one knows a single thing about them except that they have a penchant for red.

Dr. D sends them out with tips, obviously trying to help them. It’s an act of goodwill, but Ghoul can’t help but wonder if something isn’t up his sleeve. Like Tommy Chow Mein, Dr. D isn’t really known for generosity or for his selflessness. He’s not selfish by any means, but he never does anything without reason.

The tips are always too late. They always arrive maybe minutes after Party Poison, always finding the aftermath of their doing. They never find the man behind the carnage and chaos, just the wreckage and artworks left over.

Honestly, it’s driving Fun Ghoul a bit mad. This person is more cryptid than human at this point, and he’s starting to wonder if there’s even a point. They’ve tried using the radio to meet up with them, but they must not be interested.

Jet Star and Kobra Kid are convinced that a face to face conversation might change everything.

“I think we should give up,” Ghoul announces. Ghoul does not like to give up, but Ghoul is also lazy by nature. Stubbornness and slothiness isn’t a good combination. “Listen, if the guy wanted a team, they would have answered us. And it’s pretty clear they don’t really need one.”

Jet Star sighs. “Yeah, but man it would really help us out if we had them on our side. Our missions from Dr. D are so small in comparison to them, and if we had them, we would really be able to make a difference. I’m not saying we’re completely useless, because we were doing great before they showed up, but they seem to have a lot of knowledge we could really use.”

“If we really want to take down BLi, then we have to all work together. Party Poison can only go so far without burning out, and even if they don’t need a team, it’s still good to have company and someone to have your back.” Kobra sighs, setting down the paintbrush he was using to polish up their gun. “Going lone wolf can only let them get so far. If they want to go bigger than just blowing up small sections of buildings and painting offensive pieces of art, then they’ll need help. If they really want to crumble BLi like I think they do, then they need us. We just have to get them to see it that way.”

Ghoul taps his fingers on the table. “Whatever. I just don’t think we should focus too much on them.”

“We’re not. We’re still operating pretty well by ourselves. We just saved the new Bat City breachers last week from that gunfight, remember? We’re not helpless nor blinded. But an extra hand like theirs would be really useful.” 

Fun Ghoul wonders if they’ll ever get a hand.

-

“I got a new tip on my sibling,” Kobra Kid states, snatching the keys to the ugly BLi van they managed to rewire from Jet’s jacket pocket. “Let's go.”

“Really?” Jet actually looks excited. “It’s been months since we heard about them. Where are they at?”

“Hot Chimp’s night club. Apparently a regular there.” Ghoul waggles his eyes brows, and Kobra rolls his eyes. “Not like that. They’re an employee or something, the tip was kinda vague. But they should be there tonight- every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday is when they work there. Today’s Friday.”

“We better hurry.” Jet scrambles up from one of the booths, and Fun Ghoul lazily moves with him. “The club starts pretty soon, and it’s a long drive from here to there.”

“I want to see Newsagogo too, while we’re visiting,” Fun Ghoul demands. She’s always got candy on her, and Ghoul has been craving whatever the fuck those peanut and caramel chocolates she gave him last time were. Snickerings? Whatever. 

“Of course. And her girlfriend Hot Chimp.” Jet Star rolls up his sleeves as they walk towards the van, slipping out of the dinner as they follow Kobra Kid’s eager footsteps. “Hot Chimp still owes me a round of poker.”

Kobra lets a small smile grace his lips. It’s the first time Ghoul has ever seen him do such. “Let’s go.”

-

They reach the nightclub at one in the morning. There are still a couple of hours before it closes, and Kobra Kid is very obviously praying that his sibling hasn’t ended their shift just yet. The drive to the club was strangely somber, given that it was to a club.

Ghoul follows behind Jet Star and Kobra, hoping to god he’ll be able to sneak off. He’s craving a drink at this point, and the night’s just started. But Jet and Kobra have a strict no drinking on the job. 

Kobra Kid is blatantly staring at every person they come across. Ghoul thinks about chiding him, but he knows Kobra doesn’t give a shit about social conventions. Ghoul doesn’t either, so he just snags a forgotten margarita from a group of very drunk girls’ table and calls it good.

The club is swarming with people. Apparently a very popular stripper had just performed, and people were still milling about after the show. Ghoul’s been to a few strip clubs in his time- he was probably too young, but the desert had no rules. If you were curious, you were welcomed. Ghoul wonders what’s so special about that stripper to warrant such a crowd.

He takes another sip of his margarita and decides he doesn’t care.

Jet notices his margarita and promptly plucks it out of his hand. A bit too late, considering it was practically drained, but still. Rude.

In Ghoul’s peripherals, a blur of colour suddenly calls his attention. A strike of red in a sea of neons calls out to him, and he turns around to see who the hair belongs to.

His mind freezes.

Party Poison.

It’s got to be Party Poison. Ghoul and the others have only managed to catch a few glances at their face, but he’s seen enough blurry photographs from Show Pony and from his own experience to recognise them. They’re wearing a different mask, something lacy and black, but they seem to be the right guy. Same build, same height, same flaming red hair that Ghoul’s always wanted to touch and see if it felt just like the fire it always looked like when Ghoul watched them escape into the setting sun.

Red had become a popular hair dye once it was confirmed that that was Party Poison’s hair colour. And maybe Ghoul was too confident in his abilities to recognise faces, but god damn. The person _felt_ like Party Poison.

“Jet.” Ghoul snatches Jet’s arm, and he rolled his eyes, clearly imagining that Ghoul was going to get on to him about taking away his drink. Ghoul just pointed subtly at Party Poison. “It’s them, Jet.”

Jet squints. It’s dark inside, and the flickering neon lights that bounce off a disco ball don’t really help that much. Finally, his eyes land on Party Poison, and his eyes widen.

“Fuck.” He yanks Kobra away from a short woman, who he was staring at like he was trying to piece a puzzle together, and Kobra stumbled into Jet. “Kobra, look.”

Kobra did. And Kobra’s eyes brightened almost automatically. “It’s them.”

“Yeah, it’s Party-“

“It’s my sibling.”

Fun Ghoul could practically hear the record scratch. All three of them froze in place like they couldn’t believe what was just said. Jet Star blinks a few times and Fun Ghoul decides he needs vodka.

“What.”

Kobra Kid hesitates. “Party Poison’s my sibling.”

“Your missing sibling is Party Poison?” Ghoul repeats. “As in, the Party Poison whose been taking down entire fleets of Dracs singlehandedly? The Party Poison who is sneaking into Battery City time and time again just to graffiti cynical pictures of the Director on huge ass buildings? The same bastard who is notorious for literally slaying exterminators?”

Kobra Kid looks annoyed. “Yeah. That’s the same bitch.”

Jet Star looks close to fainting. He leans his entire weight on a table behind him, taking a huge breath. “Well, this sure is a surprise.”

“How the hell do you know that’s them?” Fun Ghoul has to know. 

“They look exactly like them,” Kobra hisses like he’s offended that he’s being second-guessed. “And secondly, before they got taken away from our home in Battery City, they used to tell me stories of how we would escape into the desert and become killjoys. They already had a name picked out, and guess what it is? Party Poison.”

Ghoul rubbed a hand over his face. “You didn’t think to tell us this?”

“Well, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, until we actually saw them last month.” Kobra shrugs. “But the name is way too much of a coincidence. And they look exactly alike, just older. That has to be them.”

Party Poison disappears behind DJ Hot Chimp’s booth. The black curtain ripples as Hot Chimp messes with the sliders on her jockey. 

“Let’s reunite you bastards,” Fun Ghoul finally says.

Jet Star hums. “I want more information about this later.”

Kobra waves a hand. “I’ll tell you whatever you wanna hear once we get my sibling.”

They move almost as one towards Hot Chimp. She glances up from the record she’s spinning and gives them a very short but polite wave. She smiles at them, rather brightly.

“Heya crashqueens,” she greets. “Never thought of you as a person in the club scene, Jet.”

“I’m really not,” he admits. “But Kobra Kid thinks that he just found his long lost sibling, and that sibling happens to work here.”

Huh. Does that mean Party Poison works here too? Weird thought.

Hot Chimp hums. “Let me guess, they just went backstage?”

“Yep. Will you let us in?”

“Yeah, yeah!” She waved them off. “Go on in and talk to Party Poison. I don’t care, but they might.”

“Oh, thank you!” Jet opens the curtain before glancing back. “Party Poison? You know?”

She winks. “Just go.”

They do.

The curtain closes behind them with a loud whoosh. They wander around backstage, bumping into other strippers getting ready for their next performance or getting ready to leave since their gig is over. The amount of glitter is obscene. Ghoul knows he’ll be sneezing glitter for days after this.

They walk along, trying to figure out which dressing room is their’s. They give up and finally ask one of the girls who’s prepping. They describe Party Poison and she simply points at the last door on the right. They make their way.

Kobra Kid reaches the door first and stares at it. He lifts his hand to knock, but it simply hovers over the wood. Ghoul’s never seen him freeze up nor get anxious, but that seems to be exactly what he’s doing.

Ghoul rolls his eyes. He pushes past Kobra Kid and opens the door, surprised to find it unlocked.

The scene before them is not what he expected, though he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting. Party Poison sat in a folding chair, cradling a baby. Newsagogo was fluttering over both the baby and them, cooing over the cuteness of the infant.

Both of them sharply looked up at the intruders.

“Wow,” Ghoul breathes. That’s a baby. “That’s a baby.”

Party Poison looks completely unimpressed. “Yes. She is.” They glance at Newsagogo, who looks sheepish. Newsie, I thought you locked the door.”

“Whoops.” She shrugged. “But it’s cool. Trust me, these guys are like, the coolest people ever. I think you’d like them a lot.” She seems to sense the whitening glare Poison is sending her without even looking. “I’m going to check on my girlfriend... bye!”

She quickly bolts out of there, pushing past the wall of killjoys. For a moment, it’s very quiet as they stare at each other. Party Poison is sizing them up, probably trying to figure out what the hell they're doing there.

Kobra finally steps up. He inches closer and closer, and Ghoul can tell he’s practically bouncing in energy. 

He rushes forward the rest of the way and drapes his body over Poison. He’s hugging him nearly with all his might, but he manages to not squish the baby in their arms. 

Party Poison flinches. Harshly.

A name is whispered. A True Name, one very obviously from Battery City, is spoken in the air. Kobra’s lips move very slowly as he speaks the name, and suddenly Ghoul feels as if he’s intruding on something very delicate. Jet Star looks the same way.

Party Poison immediately stiffens even further in Kobra’s arms. Their eyes narrow, and suspicion is easy to read on their face. They pull back from Kobra Kid, and Fun Ghoul feels an anxiety rush through him.

“How do you know that name?” Poison’s tone is accusatory. Kobra Kid inches back, looking surprised.

“It’s me, I’m your brother?” Kobra sounds unsure now. He kind of stares at Poison, like he’s still trying to solve a puzzle.

Poison stares at him blankly. “I don’t have a brother.”

Oh boy.

Kobra Kid frowns. “It’s me, Party.” And Then Kobra gives out another True Name, this time his. Party Poison stares at him, and something strange glimmers in their eyes. 

“Huh,” They mutter after a moment. “I always wondered how I knew that name. Even when I was bleached, I still carried that name with me. That name managed to escape the bleaching process.”

Kobra Kid gives them a small smile. “So you believe me?”

Party Poison neither confirms nor denies. “I think we have some catching up to do?”

-

Ghoul and Jet got shoved out of the room at that point, but that didn’t stop Ghoul from desperately trying to listen in. Jet Star tried to sway him from doing it, since it’s very rude and whatever, but Jet Star eventually joined in. Damn Hot Chimp and her thick walls.

Eventually, they were let back in.

And then they were given a likely watered-down version of the story Kobra was given. 

Party Poison was taken away from their home when they were twelve. They were apparently chemically unbalanced, and BLi couldn’t figure out the proper medication to fix it. Party Poison became a rebel and began to stop taking medication altogether since it never quite worked on them. BLi found out and decided to try and rehabilitate them.

Eventually, Party Poison proved to be too difficult to rehabilitate. So they decided to bleach them. That’s why Party couldn’t remember Kobra Kid- Party had no memories from before thirteen.

Party Poison from then on worked as some sort of messenger kid for BLi, until they moved up to a desk job. Their security began to grow, and BLi decided to change the dosage they were giving them. There was a huge fuck up though, and Party Poison was given the wrong pills.

Instead of the medication catered to their imbalance, they were given standard medication. Party began to become aware of the city and the oppressive society they were working for and decided to run for it.

Last year they managed to escape, and have been trying to take down BLi through small missions of their own. 

“And the baby?” Ghoul prompted because there was no way they were going to gloss over that. The little baby cooed in response.

Party Poison smiled at the small child. “A gift.”

“Who’s is it?”

“Not mine.” They shrug. “I found her out on Zone Two. Her parents had been ghosted. I only managed to save her. So I decided to take her in. That’s also why I work here, to get some extra cash. Babies are expensive.”

“What’s her name?” Jet watches the baby with a strange expression. Idly, Fun Ghoul remembers that Jet Star used to have a younger brother, before he got dusted in a village a few years back. Fun Ghoul’s stomach knots at the thought.

“Haven’t come up with one yet. I thought about Emily, but meh.” Party Poison frowns, staring at the small child with an intense expression. “I want her to choose her own name, so I decided to just call her the Girl until she thinks of something better.”

“Original,” Kobra snorts.

“Is the name Terrific Three much better?”

“Rude,” Jet states. “But valid.”

“Now that we’re all friends or something,” Ghoul begins. “How about you become a part of our gang?” Might as well get to the root of the situation now that they were all pals.

Poison frowns as they redistribute the baby's weight in their arms. "It's a nice offer and all, but I rather prefer working alone. Not to be rude or anything, but you guys will only slow me down."

"Party Poison, even with your impressive skills and abilities, you can only accomplish so much on your own. It's impossible to take down BLi as a one man army, and that's what you want to do, right?" Jet Star hums. "BLi is too massive to take down on your own. If you want to stage larger missions, missions that can really turn the tide against BLi, then you'll need a team. And I think you'll find us surprisingly competent."

Party Poison lowers their eyes to the Girl. "It's just been me and the Girl for so long... Let me think about it, okay?"

Kobra nods. "I understand. But I would really like for us to be partners. I want to get to know you, Poison."

Poison's eyes don't match the strange smile on their face. Fun Ghoul can almost hear what they're thinking- "No, you don't."

-

A week later and Poison finally gives them an answer- they agree. They realise that the only way to make it in the desert is to have someone they can rely on, and who better to trust than the people who gave them their's? 

They move into the diner quickly. They don't have many personal items, just a bag of carbons and a few clothes from Hot Chimp. Fun Ghoul had been the one to drive Poison to the diner, and as such helped them pack.

It was interesting to watch Poison interact with Newsagogo and Hot Chimp. Apparently, Newsie and Chimp had saved Poison's life a year ago when they escaped from Battery City. They had found them passed out on the side of the road and took them in their club and nursed them back to health. When Party Poison expressed a desire to complete missions against BLi, they supported them full force and even offered them the paint they used to graffiti with. Newsie would babysit the Girl on their missions or during their night job.

They acted almost as siblings do. Newsie started crying when Poison got inside the old van. Strange how they were more like siblings than Kobra Kid, who was actually their sibling. Ghoul tried not to think about that too much, and instead focused on driving them to the diner.

“The Girl.... you really just found her?” Ghoul said. The silence between them felt near suffocating. Maybe it was just him.

“Yeah. Found her in the arms of her mother.” Poison’s expression is soft. “A fleet of Dracs had driven by, and I guess they found a pair of targets. The mother and father were both shot right in the heart. The mother was on top of the Girl, I guess trying to hide her. It...” Party Poison stared out the window with empty eyes. “It was pretty gruesome.”

Fun Ghoul keeps silent the rest of the ride. After that cheerful topic, Ghoul isn’t inclined to hear anything else that could make his stomach coil.

-

Party Poison fits right into their group, but with them joining a disruption is created in their lives. Their entire dynamics switch and alter, and Ghoul can’t tell for the life of him if that’s a good thing.

It’s a small thing, but the first difference is that now Ghoul isn’t the youngest killjoy. That title belongs technically to The Girl, but in terms of actual killjoys, it belongs to Poison. Now that fact really fucking shocked him- Party Poison looks and acts exactly like the suave older sibling Ghoul expected them to be.

“Really? They’re younger than you?” Ghoul prods at Kobra. Party had mentioned just a few hours before that they were eighteen. Wow.

“Yeah.” Kobra Kid looks annoyed, like this concept shouldn’t be so hard to understand. “Yes, they’re younger by two years. You’re older by one. Jet’s older by four. I know you’re bad at math, but come on.”

“Fuck off,” he mutters with no passion. “But seriously, they don’t act like the younger sibling. They’re just like Jet Star.” Fun Ghoul’s stomach churns a bit at the thought of Jet’s younger, deader brother.

“Well, I wasn’t much of an older brother when we were younger anyway.” The comment is flippant, but from the whites of Kobra’s knuckles and how tight he was gripping the magazine he was trying to read, it obviously held more weight.

“What do you mean?”

“Back in Battery City, I was always really sick. I had bad reactions to those pills they kept feeding me. So it kept me bedridden all the time.” Kobra hummed. “I wasn’t really there for Party. I tried to be, but I couldn’t.”

Fun Ghoul listens. Kobra doesn’t tell many stories, but this time, he does. He tells him stories of Party Poison and how they would escape to the Lobby in search of colour. He told him how obsessed Party was with colour, and how their mother had taught them all about reds and blues and hues before she had been killed off by BLi. He shared Party’s escapades into the Lobby.

It was kind of strange, hearing about Poison in their earlier youth. Especially considering the Party Poison they had in the present- one who couldn’t remember their own brother. 

Party’s rebellion streak eventually got them caught. BLi realized that they hadn’t been taking the pills, and when Party failed to show up to school after a day in the Lobby, BLi came after them. Kobra Kid remembers watching them drag Poison out of their house, and remembers being powerless to stop it.

“There was a wild look in their eyes,” he mutters. “A lot like the one they have now. They were desperate to survive. I guess nothing’s changed since then.”

Party Poison still seems strangely set on survival mode. Party Poison refuses to show their face to anyone, and makes a point of wearing the mask at all hours of the day. They won’t let anyone hold the Girl.

They don’t trust anyone, and they only barely tolerate Kobra.

Fun Ghoul knows it’ll be a long road ahead of them. For some reason, he doesn’t really mind. Party Poison is filled to the brim with secrets and untold stories, and Ghoul wants to get to the bottom of this strange character.

-

A year passes by. The Girl is about a year and a half old. She’s pretty chatty. And very adorable.

Party Poison opened up a bit more. They certainly aren’t as aloof as they were at eighteen. Fun Ghoul could say with certainty that they were friends. It’s a nice feeling.

Still, Party doesn’t unmask themself. It’s weird, but Ghoul doesn’t push no matter how desperate he is. 

Their missions have grown in numbers and size. Dr. D and Party Poison don’t seem to get along very well- Dr. D is annoyed with Poison’s attitude and disregard for his authority, and Party Poison seems to be under the impression that Dr. D is using them as pawns.

Despite that, they do manage to work well- the plans they come up with are meticulous and well thought out. They catch each other’s mistakes and they seem to be slowly becoming acquaintances. They’re like cogs in a machine sometimes, and it’s scary to see how similar the two of them are when plotting the destruction of BLi.

Their missions go to places and do things Ghoul’s only dreamed of. They eventually break into one of the bleaching facilities in the very, very south side of the city. They destroy all the machines and weapons and bleaching devices they can find. It’s a small step, but it’s also a leap from where they came from.

They sneak into the city more and more. They graffiti buildings, they knock down propaganda, and they spread the word of the killjoys. Their name spreads like wildfire as BLi paints red targets on their backs for crossing them so defiantly.

They continue the fight in the desert as well. They prevent huge raids from occurring, they protect the neutral villages, they help out desert dwellers in need. Their heroics, a term Fun Ghoul likes to use very loosely, earns them a big name.

It’s been a productive year, Ghoul would say.

-

Years pass by. Their names have skyrocketed. The desert hails them all as messiahs who are destined to bring about the end of BLi’s tyranny.

The Fabulous Killjoys is what they call them. It’s a nice name.

Party Poison becomes the leader, though they don’t really admit to it. They step up and they make decisions in the snap of a finger. Their quick wit has saved them on so many occasions.

At first, Ghoul was a little snubbed at the idea of them leading. Kobra, Jet and him had been together for years before they had showed up. But now with a central commander, it did make things easier to have someone who could make decisions with confidence.

Besides, really, it could only be Party Poison.

Their knack for public speaking is what really boosts their reputation. Party Poison constantly calls for action from people in the zones, and constantly screams a rally cry. They preach unity, trying to get their peers to see that they could never win against BLi unless they stopped the infighting.

Gang wars have gone down exponentially ever since Party Poison first got on the airwaves and lectured the people about cohesion. Party Poison’s passion and words leads to the population nicknaming them the ‘flames of revolution’. They’ve got a fiery passion, a voice that makes people listen.

In the time they’ve been an official group, they’ve done quite a bit of damage. They’ve caused repeated shutdowns of multiple weapons facilities. They’ve busted out captured killjoys in covert operations, smuggling them from rehabilitation centers right underneath BLi’s noses. The rate of breachers has skyrocketed and continues to climb at staggering rates.

They’ve even managed to blow up parts of a medication factory. That had taken a lot of time and effort, but it threw the city so out of whack that all of the medical offices had to close for an entire day.

Fun Ghoul was far from ashamed to admit he was still smug over that.

Years have passed, and they have everything to show for it. They’re becoming the legends they dreamed of ever since they were fifteen, ever since Dr. D introduced them all together in the hopes of reviving the long dead killjoys. 

Fun Ghoul’s twenty-two now. The last of the true killjoys died when he was seven- the killjoys who were veterans of the wars that plagued the entire world not so long ago. He remembers their funeral, and he remembers their legacy- the people nearly revolted that day, when BLi managed to finally snuff them out. For one moment, the entire desert was unified.

Ghoul hopes it doesn’t take such a cataclysmic event for Party Poison’s dreams of unity to bloom into fruition.

-

As the years pass, the Girl grows. Ghoul’s never seen a baby before- kids in the zones are scarce, let alone infants. And he has to say, watching one grow up is kind of terrifying. Just years ago she was a blob of bones and drool. Now she could walk and talk and sing and hug and do so much.

She’s just shy of four now. She thinks of them all as brothers, and Party Poison does nothing to suggest they should be treated as anything different. Despite that, the Girl seems to unconsciously prefer them over anyone else.

It’s kind of sickeningly sweet to see them together. For a moment, Fun Ghoul gets flashbacks to when he was young and had his parents around, before they had been captured and executed by BLi. Party Poison loves to twirl her around and around like his mother used to. It makes his heart ache watching them, but it always puts a smile on his face. 

But something always nags at him, especially after watching the Girl grow. He knows the Girl’s parents are dead- Party Poison themself reported their ghosting, which aligns perfectly to a shootout that Dr. D had broadcasted about that same time. He’s been to the mailbox enough times to watch the Girl slip letters to her mother, watched her pray often enough to the Phoenix Witch for those letters to make it to her mother (which, interestingly enough, Fun Ghoul has never seen her write to her father).

There’s something that nags at him every time he sees Poison and the Girl together. He knows Jet feels the same, considering how often he seems to analyse them, like he’s piecing together a puzzle.

They look a lot alike.

At this point, it’s almost impossible to deny. Sure, it might be subtle to the untrained eye, but when you’ve spent so much of your life watching that little girl grow up, you can recognize her features anywhere. And those features are near identical to Party Poison.

The hair always throws people off- in fact, most people assume Jet is the father because of it. But if you look deeper than that, you’ll find her hair colour is pretty similar to Poison’s roots, if they happen to let them grow out or if Tommy Chow Mein refuses to sell them a box of hair dye.

They have the same freckles. The same swirl that reminds Ghoul of the galaxy of stars that used to brighten the night sky before the nuclear winter and pollution. They have the same eyes, same shape and shade. It’s the eyes that really sell Fun Ghoul on his working theory. Those identical eyes full of steel and paranoia, yet so capable of excitement and joy if prodded just right.

Their smiles are what cements the concept. It’s exactly the same, coy and almost verging on shy yet still sort of smug. It’s toothy yet not at all wide, small yet bright. 

Fun Ghoul knows the Girl’s parents are long dead, but he can’t help but consider that maybe they’re not as dead as they think they are. The mother might be. But the other...?

Well, Fun Ghoul has a hypothesis on that. And he plans to get to the bottom of this mystery.

-

As the Girl grows older, things within the group seem to change. Or at least, the desert suddenly doesn’t seem so barren and hopeless. 

Miracles begin to sprout at the strangest times. The Girl always seems to be at the epicenter. 

There’s a certain time in particular that makes Ghoul question about the Girl’s humanity. 

It’s night time. Jet Star and him are stuck on the side of the road, along with the Girl. The plan was that they would travel to a new marketplace together to get some more supplies and so the Girl could pick out a birthday present. Party Poison and Kobra Kid were on a mission at the time from Dr. D, so that left Jet and Ghoul to do the grocery shopping.

Party Poison had taken a bit but eventually they became more trusting of placing the Girl in the care of others. For the longest time, Party Poison refused to leave her alone with Jet or Ghoul, and only on occasion or in desperation did they trust her with Kobra Kid. Ghoul wasn’t really jealous, but he was a bit miffed at how Kobra was clearly favoured. Sure, Kobra was their older brother, but come on.

Party Poison would rather take her on missions then leave her alone with any of them, especially Dr. D. They’ve juggled childcare during missions before the Fab Four was formed, and they weren’t afraid to test their luck.

Eventually, that distrust faded. And Jet Star and Fun Ghoul found themselves taking care of a small child.

Of course, Jet Star was much better at it than him. For one, Jet Star actually liked children, and actually knew how to interact with them. Secondly, he’d had a younger brother, and with that came older sibling instincts. Ghoul just left the babysitting to Jet.

The marketplace went great. They got everything they wanted for a pretty decent price. Food, some new blankets, and a couple of Battery packs for their guns. The Girl got herself a kick ass vest that’s a bit too big on her now. All in all, pretty successful.

Unfortunately, their drive back to the diner wasn’t such a hit. The car suddenly gave out in the middle of nowhere. Now they were stranded on Route Guano.

Ghoul rubbed his head as he checked the engine. Great, now he had to go through the process of figuring out what was even wrong. Jet Star has a broken finger and couldn’t help him, so he was staying in the car, waiting for Ghoul to give him the okay to start up the car.

The Girl has followed him to the front of the car and was watching as he fiddled around the battery. The lights on the dash has began to blink rapidly, and Ghoul has a feeling he knew what the problem was as he inspected the battery. 

“The battery’s fucking dead,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. Shit, what do they do? There’s no way to jumpstart this piece of shit without a source of electricity, or they’ll have to get a new battery. But batteries are fucking expensive and the nearest market is a good twenty miles out now.

He carefully placed the battery back in the car. They might be able to jumpstart it, but they’ll need another car. Poison and Kobra still have the old BLi van they had hijacked before Kobra had won this car in a bet. Maybe they’ll radio them? Or Hot Chimp? She has a news van…

“What’s wrong?” The Girl asked, curious.

“The battery in the car is dead,” Ghoul explained. “We need to jumpstart it with some electricity so the car will work again and we can go home.”

Do they even have jumping cables anymore? Did they ever have any? He’ll go check the truck. Hopefully no one threw them out. Given all of their hoarding tendencies, it’s not likely.

He leaned into Jet’s side of the car and told him the diagnosis. Jet Star groaned and offered no helpful advice, simply because there wasn’t any. 

It was starting to get cold out. The Girl should probably get back in the car and huddle with Jet Star for warmth or something.

As Ghoul made his way back to where the Girl had been, he heard the faintest sound of the crackling of electricity. Immediately he picked up the pace and found the Girl nearly inside the hood, her feet dancing over the edge as she latched onto the battery. Ghoul picked her up and snatched her away from the battery, and one last crackle of electricity sparked as he did so.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” He breathed, setting her down. She looked perfectly fine, no burn marks or scorch patterns. “What were you doing?”

“I fixed the battery!” She cheered. 

“Everything alright?” Jet hollered. The hood was blocking his sight but he must have heard the electricity. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ghoul’s attention was completely on the Girl. “What do you mean?”

“Electricity! I gave it electricity! That’s what it needed, right?”

Ghoul stared at her. What… there’s no way she…? He glanced over at Jet. “Hey, start the car up!”

“What? Why?”

“Just try it.” Did she really…?

The battery churns to life. The little girl is smiling to herself, and Ghoul is suddenly questioning this strange miracle. There's no way she... did she?

He stared at the Girl before glancing back at the battery. It had been dead not moments ago, yet now the motor was spinning away, and he could hear the engine roar. Jet Star leaned out of the window and gave a thumbs up. "Fun Ghoul, it's working now! Great job!"

Fun Ghoul stares at the Girl. She gives him a big smile.

Well, he's not complaining.

But now he’s just straight up curious. Who were her parents?

-

Incidents like this continue. The radio battery died? The next day the radio is working like brand new. Their walkie talkies don’t work anymore? Not for long- a few hours later and they’re working at a range never before seen.

Ghoul knows there’s something mystical about the Girl. There’s magic in her yet- that’s the only reason any of this could happen. But how? But why?

Party Poison’s keeping a big secret. Something nags at Ghoul and he’s beginning to think the story of the Girl’s parents was just that- a story. The Girl’s blood has a different history than the one Party’s telling. 

-

“Come on, Kobra,” Ghoul pleads. The Girl is a bit older than when she had fixed their car battery. Ghoul can’t remember the last time they’ve had to buy any sort of battery. Is no one else suspicious? “Please!”

“Ghoul, this is stupid.” Kobra doesn’t even look up from his magazine. “Party Poison already told you about her parents. Why would the Girl know anything about them when they died when she was barely three months old?”

“Kobra, you can’t tell me you’re not a little suspicious? The Girl only ever writes to her mother. Why not her father? Aren’t you curious?” Ghoul was desperately trying to get Kobra to ask the Girl about her father. The Girl doesn’t care for Ghoul much, but she loves Kobra Kid for some godforsaken reason. If Ghoul though he was bad with kids, Kobra was ten times worse. 

“This is stupid,” Kobra chided, but he was setting down his magazine and getting up, so he can insult the plan all he wants as long as he goes through with it. Kobra makes a show of rolling his eyes, even tilting down his ever present aviators to really get the point across.

Still, he went into the Girl’s room without further prodding. Party Poison was at Dr. D’s, discussing further mission plans, but really, they were probably just arguing the whole time. Their dynamic was something Ghoul could never understand- they had a mutual respect for each other and seemed to have finally become friends, yet they still hate each other’s guts. Party Poison doesn’t like following orders, and Dr. D doesn’t like it when people don’t listen to him. It’s a bad combination.

Still, this meant Poison wasn’t around and the Girl could be talked to without intervention. Kobra went inside while Ghoul hovered outside the door, trying to listen in. 

“Hey, Girly.” Kobra’s voice was rough, and he heard the sound of a pencil stop in its tracks. “Whatcha up to?”

“Writing a letter for my mom,” she sang. “I’m trying to draw her a picture of all of you! It’s not going well.”

“Just your mom?” There’s a pause, and some scuffling papers. “Oh wow, that’s a really good drawing. You even made Ghoul look like the rat he is.”

Ghoul swallowed down his anger. Fucking asshole.

The Girl laughed. “Yeah! I tried to give him greasy hair too!”

“It’s really good, kid.” Kobra hums a bit. “Why do you write letters only to your mom?”

There’s a pause. “Well, who else would I write to?”

“Your… dad?” 

“Who?”

The Girl seems obviously confused. Now that Ghoul thought about it, the concept of a father was never really brought up around her. Did Party Poison never explain what a dad was? Just a mother?

Ghoul narrowed his eyes as he listened to Kobra try to answer. “Oh, well. You know with parents, it’s usually two people that make a baby?”

Ghoul really hopes this isn’t going to delve into the Talk.

“Yeah! Party explained that to me! They said when two people love each other very, very, very much, the Witch gives them a baby.”

Ghoul tried to suppress a snicker. Party Poison couldn’t give the talk about sex, but the bastard had been stripper. 

“Ah, well, one of those people is the mother.” Kobra paused. “And the other one is the father. Sometimes the parents are both mothers or both fathers. Do you understand?”

“Yep!”

“Then why do you only write to your mom?”

Another silence passes. Ghoul can imagine the Girl thinking, sticking her tongue out and scrunching up her nose and brows the same way Party does when they’re thinking hard. She’s tapping her pencil on the table, the soft thrum echoing in the silence.

“I don’t know. Party never told me about a dad or a second mother.” She stood up, he could tell from the sounds of her bare feet hiting the ground. “Wow! I can’t believe I have a second parent! Oh, I can’t wait to tell them about all of you! When will Party be back, huh? I gotta ask them about my dad? Or other mother? I hope it’s another mother, moms are nice! The other day I met this mom who was carrying a tiny, tiny baby and she gave me some chocolate! Moms are so cool!”

Ghoul smiles as she rants. 

“What if Party’s my mom?” The Girl’s question hits Ghoul like a laser. He can hear Kobra become breathless from the way he sharply inhales. “Oh, they’re such a good mom already! They always give me candy and tuck me in and tell me stories! Aw, but if Party’s my mom then I can’t tell them all about you guys because they already know all of you.”

“I don’t think Party Poison’s your mom, kid.” There’s hesitation in Kobra’s voice, and he sounds very unconvinced himself. “Remember, they found you?”

“Yeah, ‘cause the Phoenix Witch gave me to them when I was a baby! It makes sense! Right? Party’s my mom! Or dad?”

“Parent.”

“Yeah! My parent! They’re my parent! My mom’s up with the Witch and Party’s my parent!”

Uh, oh.

Ghoul’s been considering that idea for a long while now, if he was honest. Party Poison mentioned that they got around pretty frequently back then, when they first got into the zones. It’s not improbable, especially considering how similar the two looked.

-

“Party Poison!” The Girl shrieked as soon as Poison stepped inside the diner. She sprinted out of the booth across Ghoul and slammed into Party Poison’s knees. The bastard didn’t even flinch and in one fluid motion they picked her up and held her against their hip.

“Hey, kiddo. What's got you all riled up? Jet Star didn’t sneak you any more candy, did he?”

“No! No!” She was giggling excitedly. Ghoul knew exactly what she was going to say. “Kobra Kid asked me why I only wrote to my mom, you know, cause you know, it takes two people to get a baby from the Witch, at least? And so it made me wonder who the other person was, but now I know! It’s you! You’re my other parent! Cause the Witch gives parents babies and you found me! You’re my parent!”

Party Poison’s eyes became steely. The Girl didn’t notice and continued to babble. “Party, you’re such a good mom! You always tell me stories and give me candy and tuck me in and you taught me how to shoot and how to patch myself up and how to sew! You’re such a good parent! I can’t believe I didn’t know you were my parent!”

Gently, Poison set her back down. Party Poison’s eyes were strangely watery. “Girly, I’m-“

“Why didn’t you tell me though? I don’t mind, ‘cause I still figured it out and all, but why? And you never gave me a name for my mom either? Why not? Why not?”

“Girl…”

“You’re a great mom and I’m very happy to have you as a parent but why didn’t you tell me? Huh?”

“Girl.”

Party Poison never yelled at the Girl. Party Poison reserved yelling for battles. They didn’t believe in raising their voice simply because if they had to do that to get their point across, then it meant they weren’t doing a good job explaining.

And Party Poison didn’t raise their voice even now. But the name was said with a sharpness rivaled by flint. Party Poison looked almost angry, and Ghoul knew it wasn’t at the Girl. Oh, they were definitely going to get an earful tonight.

“Darling,” they continued, noticing their tone and the Girl’s startled expression. “I’m not your parent. I’m sorry, but both of them are with the Witch, including your father. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear, and I’m sorry it’s true.”

The Girl’s excitement died down. Her face dimmed and she looked like she was on the verge of crying. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” Party scooped her into their arms and hugged her tightly. “The Witch didn’t give you to me. I wasn’t Her first choice. But I still love you dearly, you know? Even if we’re not related, I still love you. I can’t be your parent, but I can be your sibling. Is that alright?”

The Girl rubbed her eyes and glanced back at Poison. There was something earnest in Party Poison’s expression and the Girl relented. “Yeah. I’d much rather have four older siblings than two parents. Parents are always cranky anyways. You guys are fun!”

Poison smiled gently. They glanced over at Kobra, however, and glared. Kobra slunk begins his magazine and blocked out Party Poison from his vision.

-

“What the hell?” Party furiously whispered. Ghoul and Kobra had been cornered into Kobra’s room. Jet Star was asleep in his room, excused from the upcoming argument since he had been with Cherri Cola all day long, trying to help him garden. Suffice to say, that didn’t go well. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ghoul stated. Kobra and Poison gave him an unconvinced look.

“Don’t bother playing dumb,” Kobra muttered. “Ghoul wanted to know more about the kid’s parents so he had me ask her why she only wrote to her mother. Honestly, it’s a valid question.”

“Did you ever explain to her what a dad was, anyway?” Ghoul knows the answer.

“I guess not.” Party ran a hand through their hair, looking more stressed out than Ghoul had ever seen them, even when the Girl was a baby and cried all the time. “How’d she get stuck on me then?”

“Well, she figured you were the other parent since you told her the Witch gives people babies. Since you found her, she thought that meant the Witch had given her to you.” Ghoul snickered. “Really, you didn’t give her the sex talk?”

“She’s not even five, Ghoul.” Party Poison continued to rake their hair. “You’re not giving her the talk until she’s at least seven.”

“Whatever.”

“Listen.” Party Poison leans into both of their spaces, probably unconsciously. For someone who hates being touched, they sure have no problem touching other people. “It’s extremely important that she doesn’t think I’m her parent.”

“Why?”

“Because if she did, she might spread the word and if BLi caught wind of that, then BLi’s interest in her would skyrocket. I don’t want to paint an unnecessary target on her back when she’s already facing so much danger by being associated with us. Understand?”

“Right.”

“Okay.” Party sighed. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day, listening to Dr. D harass me. Goodnight.”

Party Poison left the room, and Ghoul quickly followed. “Hey, wait.”

“What?” Party spun around, putting their hands on their hips. They were obviously irritated, and Ghoul couldn’t help but wonder what Dr. D and them had managed to argue about that left them so tense.

“What’s got you so pissy? Did Dr. D push your buttons too hard?” It’s not the question he wanted to ask.

Poison slumped. “He’s just being an asshole. He thinks we should give up the Girl.”

Oh.

“He thinks she’s not going to survive under our care. She’s too fragile, and we’re too important to be tied down by her.” Their eyes are angry, a fire burning within them as they spoke. “Well, damn him! If anyone’s going to survive this hellstorm, it’s going to be her. Mark my words.”

They lean against the wall, the fire dimming. “Is that what you really wanted to ask?”

“No.” Ghoul took a deep breath. “Will you tell me who the Girl’s real parents are?” Are they you?

“Their names aren’t important.” Party Poison tossed their hair out of their face. “They had just escaped the city, from the looks of it. I don’t even know their names.”

Ghoul watched them in that dark hallway. There was a strange expression plastered on their face, unreadable yet undeniably hiding something.

“They’re dead, Ghoul.” 

Ghoul isn’t so sure. “I see.”

He lets them go to bed, but something aches in him to ask more questions.

-

Evidence keeps stacking up. The fact that the Girl and Party Poison appear similar to each other, that Party Poison miraculously found her amongst the bodies of some nameless breachers… it was enough to give Ghoul the impression that Party Poison’s hiding something. 

And Party vehemently insisted they’re not the parent and demanded to keep this possibility from BLi. Not only that, but the fact that they managed to completely omit the concept of a father to the Girl when telling her to write letters solely to her mother…?

Ghoul has an inkling he knows who the Girl’s real parents are, and they aren’t lying dead in the desert somewhere. At least one of them is standing right in front of them.

Fun Ghoul isn’t smart like Jet Star, who can perform long division in his head, who has mathematical equations constantly swimming around in his brain, who can calculate the height of a building and how long it would take for it to collapse. He’s not smart like Kobra Kid, who is the only reason they can decode Dr. D’s radio messages thanks to his uncanny abilities to recognize patterns and analyze them for exploitation. He’s not smart like Party Poison, who understands strategy and human emotion, whose empathy levels are off the charts and who knows how to exploit those feelings.

But he can put two and two together. He’s not stupid. Party Poison is absolutely the Girl’s parent. 

The question remains: who’s the mother?

(Ghoul has a theory on that, too, but it's a bit too fantastic for his liking. The Girl’s strange powers probably have a more… divine source.)

-

Party Poison gains a new nickname amongst the desert people. The eternal flame.

Mass rumors have always spread through the desert about the stranger who appeared out of the blue one day. Party Poison always rolls their eyes at the gossip, but never confirms nor denies any allegations. Fun Ghoul loves to listen to see what people think (Party Poison does too, Ghoul knows, because Party Poison loves being at the center of attention).

Some are just plain wrong. Others are fun. Some... make Ghoul question himself and what he knows about his friend.

There's a huge rumour settling across the people. It sprung up years ago, when Party Poison had first entered the desert scene. Usually it's only murmured about in hushed voices and quiet tongues- because it deals with the Phoenix Witch, and Her name is not to be spoken lightly amongst those who believe in Her.

Fun Ghoul's on the fence about Her. There have definitely been some strange, almost magical happenings during his time as a child in the desert, and sometimes it certainly feels like there's some divine intervention going on. Jet Star seems to believe in Her, but not Destroya, Kobra Kid doesn't believe in anything, and Party Poison believes in everything.

Party Poison will go on long tangents about how the Witch exists- they're the reason the Girl sends letters, after all. They are devout in their beliefs, and they have no qualms sharing it. Fun Ghoul likes to listen to their stories of divine intervention, as they always border on improbable yet not impossible.

Rumor has it that Party Poison has somehow earned the Witch's favour, and is impervious to death. Though, impervious is the wrong word. It's the fact that they can't stay dead. They can be killed as many times as necessary and the Phoenix Witch will always send them back.

Fun Ghoul has heard of people coming back from the dead- the phrase "killjoys never die" had to have been coined somewhere. If you have a strong enough destiny or cause, the Witch will rebound your soul and allow you back into the land of the living for a small price- an item equal in worth to your soul. Fun Ghoul had never believed in that, frankly.

But there are so many reports of Party Poison seemingly dead one moment on the field- especially before the Fab Four was created- that Ghoul's beginning to change his mind. Party Poison seems completely infallible to the public, and it makes sense rumors of possible immortality made its way through the zones. But the rumor hasn't died off like so many others, and the fact remains that there have been a handful of people who would testify to seeing Party Poison's corpse.

Fun Ghoul's not one for believing in magic unless all other possibilities are proven wrong. But damn, something about Party Poison always seems to make him reconsider his beliefs. 

-

A raid goes terribly.

Korse, the head exterminator of BLi, is leading it. A few years ago and Fun Ghoul would, admittedly, have cowered at the thought of going up against the man with the second-highest kill count, second only to the Director herself. Now, Fun Ghoul taunts him and mocks him and shoots at him on a near-daily basis.

Korse is obsessed with Party Poison. There's simply no doubt about that- every time the group manages to cross paths with the man, his laser focus is always pointed on Party Poison. Korse has painted a target on Poison's back and is dead set on hitting it.

It's frankly terrifying if Ghoul was honest. They like to joke about it, but everyone is always uneasy. What could Party Poison have done to garner Korse's attention? Korse can't feel, but what he does seems to be verging on a desperate desire for revenge. 

An exterminator left the city about a month before Party Poison did. That had caused a huge uproar in both the city and the desert- for the city, it was the fact that they lost a treasured weapon, and it proved a huge kink in the system. For the desert, it meant that a person who's been murdering their peers is now hidden amongst them- paranoia sprang out and there were quite a few shootouts in the weeks that followed news of the exterminator's escape. Did Party Poison have something to do with it? They had been a high ranking secretary at the time...

Whatever they had done in the city is certainly following them into the desert. Korse is bent on destroying Party Poison, and refuses to let anyone but himself take their life. The dedication to the death of their leader idly reminds Ghoul of a predator stalking prey. It's awful and Fun Ghoul wishes not just for the groups safety and the ease that would come with detering Korse onto someone else, but also for Party Poison's sake. 

Korse just won't leave Poison alone. Which leads them to today's event.

A raid occurred on the outer edge of Route Guano. A small band of tiny gangs had decided to hold a market to try and swap goods between them. One of them managed to snitch the location to BLi, and BLi responded with sending some Dracs to take care of the rebel scum.

Of course, as soon as the Fab Four heard word, they slammed the gas and headed right over there. It wasn't exactly hard to find and was even easier to join.

Everything was going pretty smoothly until Korse decided to step in.

The problem with Korse is that he always managed to cut Party Poison away from the main fight, and away from their allies. This means that while Party Poison was busy handling and evading Korse, the killjoys were down a man in the firefight. And sometimes even one extra gun can be the difference between victory or mass execution.

Either way, it meant Party was occupied and they were on their own.

Fun Ghoul could handle the Dracs with ease. Despite the huge imbalance between their numbers vs the Dracs, it didn't mean much. Dracs were often braindead and had little thinking capacity. After all, a majority of the fleet are corpses BLi just wouldn’t let die and forced them into the reanimation process. The ones who can think and do exhibit some concept of self-thought are easy to distinguish as the living soldiers, those who had been bleached until they could be molded into whatever BLi wanted. And BLi always wants more soldiers.

Fun Ghoul was about to finish off the last of the five Dracs that had tried to ambush him when miraculously, he happened to look to his left.

Just in time to watch Korse grab Party Poison by the hair. 

Just in time to watch him jam his gun against Party Poison's chest.

Just in time to hear the piercing sound of a shot, the sizzle of electricity, a body thumping against the sandy ground. Just in time to watch Party Poison get shot straight in the heart.

Jet Star and Kobra Kid were too far away to notice what happened. Did Ghoul really just see-? Was Party Poison actually-? Had Korse-?

None of his thoughts made sense, only phrases of incomprehensible strings of thoughts. He let out a small shriek and a war-whoop, firing as many shots as he could as fast as he could at the remaining the Drac. It hit the ground smoking, and Fun Ghoul almost felt bad for disfiguring it as badly as he did.

But that wasn't on his mind. His only thought was Party Poison, Party Poison, Party Poison.

He broke into a dead run, charging up his gun and moving as fast as his legs could carry him. Korse was staring impassively at the corpse- oh god, the corpse- of his friend. Korse almost seemed to be waiting for something.

Fun Ghoul fired. He missed most of his shots, but one of his lasers nicked Korse's ear. His hands were shaking too hard for his aim to be any good. When Fun Ghoul saw blood spill from Korse's head, something sick began to grow inside him. 

"You bastard!" he screamed, and it was completely incomprehensible, a near sob choking him before he could finish. Korse immediately brought out his gun and Fun Ghoul shot at him again and again, unrelenting in his stream of laser fire. They can't be dead, they can't be dead-

"Does it even matter?" Korse questions, looking at Ghoul with something just beneath surprise. "Their blood won't even dry."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Ghoul was not in the mood for cryptic messages. He noticed Kobra Kid’s now flanking his left, and his stomach tightens as he pulls at the trigger. Can Kobra Kid see their sibling’s body? Does he know? Does he know?

Before Korse can give him a likely snide remark, a stream of laser fire pushes him back. Kobra Kid begins to drive Korse off, and Fun Ghoul uses this opportunity to rush to Party Poison.

The blood sends his heart into a frenzy. The shot to the heart left a smouldering hole in their chest, and their favourite shirt was now stained in sticky red and ashes. Ghoul dropped to his knees and tried to feel for a pulse, his hands snaking around their neck before reaching their wrist.

Nothing.

Ghoul listened for a heart beat. Obviously nothing.

No breath, no beat, no pulse, no anything. They were ghostly pale, and Ghoul tried so hard to not burst into their tears. No, it can’t be. They can’t be dead. That’s impossible.

He holds the body in his arms because he has no idea what to do now. The firefight is still going on, he can hear Jet Star distantly calling out for some of the lower gang members to duck for cover. Kobra Kid’s still fighting against Korse, now having moved quite a ways away. There are so many people surrounding them, yet Ghoul’s never felt so alone.

Shit, shit.

Smoke clogs his nose with the scent of burnt flesh. It’s just like his parents all over again. Just like when they’d been shot right in front of him, when they had hid him behind some rocks and told him not to look but he looked anyway because he was seven. He watched as the Dracs executed the last remaining true Killjoys, the former veterans of a war Ghoul didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand. 

Now here was the first person he’s met who’s ever fit the description of a killjoy, who wore the title like they had won it fair and square through hard work. Who embodied everything his parents had fought for, sacrificed for. Who stood a chance of actually defeating BLi unlike his parents.

Party Poison was dead.

His ears rang. His vision seemed to swim, like he was drowning in a fog.

“Hey asshole, are you crying?”

Fun Ghoul stared down at Party Poison. Party Poison stared back. Party Poison blinked, squinting. “Oh shit, you are crying.”

Fun Ghoul drops Party Poison’s not corpse, causing Poison to curse. “What the hell- what the hell- what-“

“Just got shot and this how you treat me?” Party scrambles to their feet, cocking their gun like nothing happened. “Come on Ghoul, we’ve got a fight to finish.”

“But- you-“

Party Poison sends him a wink. Before Ghoul can get his thoughts together, Party’s already chasing after a group of Dracs that managed to corner some of the younger gang members. Ghoul watches as they hit a Drac dead in the eye, and Ghoul feels strangely numb.

Party Poison died.

They died. 

Party Poison was dead in his arms. He knows that. They had no pulse, no breath, and no heartbeat. Party Poison was gone, ghousted, dusted, and every other synonym for dead. There's no mistaking it. Ghoul knows bodies, he’s dealt with so many in his life, he knows a corpse when he sees one.

But there they were, charging up their gun behind a large rock, and moving about as if they hadn't died. Still moving and full of life and oh god, Ghoul’s head hurt.

Party couldn't possibly have died. They were alive now. But they died. But...

“Ghoul, five o’clock!”

Ghoul manages to see the shot at his head just as it was shouted. He moves out of the way at the last second and shoots back at the stray Drac. Fuck.

He’s going to have a chat with Party Poison after this.

-

It’s night time now. The fire fight’s over. Korse eventually got sick of watching his entire patrol get picked off by the same people he was supposed to be killing, and called a tactical retreat. They stuck around afterwards, helping the gangs clean up and retrieve what was lost.

Now it was the middle of the night and Fun Ghoul was staring at the ceiling in the dark of his closet turned into a room. He was counting the cracks in the ceiling, trying to figure out what he should do. He knows Party Poison is still awake- the bastard never fucking sleeps, and it’s a miracle how long they’re able to run for. They’re on their shift, watching out for any potential Dracs or whatever. Ghoul knows it’s just an excuse for their insomnia, but doesn’t point it out.

Should he confront them? Ghoul loves confrontation, and loves getting in fights. Physical fights are his drugs, and he loves getting high. But this was different. This felt weird and different and strangely personal. And Ghoul’s not even sure if he wants an answer to the question he’s not sure how to ask.

But he’s so fucking curious. Party Poison was dead in his arms. There’s no doubt. He knows what he saw. Did they meet the Phoenix Witch? Were the rumors true?

Was Ghoul just going out of his mind?

“Fuck,” he muttered before straggling out of his blanket pile. Kobra Kid was the only person with an actual mattress, and the others all had to make do with odds and ends they managed to salvage from raids or the dumpster off of Zone Two.

Just talk to the bastard. It’s not hard. They’re a friend.

He slinks about the diner as silently as possible. He can hear the steady thrum of Jet Star’s snores and he sees through the crack of a door that Kobra Kid is asleep in his room. The Girl is tucked tightly in Party Poison’s room, sleeping soundly though Poison themself was nowhere to be seen.

Ghoul hummed. Maybe they went for a late night drive. Not impossible.

He stumbled outside. He was now wide awake, unfortunately, and decided to do some stargazing while he was up. Though really, stars were exceptionally scarce and most of the night seems to be nothing more than a black hole. 

He notices the Trans Am settled in front of the diner doors. And parked right on the roof is none other than Party Poison. Quietly, Ghoul approached them, debating on what to say. He wasn’t well known for parsing his words, but this topic seems to need some thought.

He was close enough to see Party’s chest rise and fall. If he hadn’t known them better, he’d assume they were asleep. “Hey, fuckface. Mind if I join ya?”

Party Poison simply scoots over a bit. Fun Ghoul climbs on top and lays out beside them. Not only is Party Poison the youngest killjoy, they're also the shortest. It’s so fucking weird finally being taller than someone, and it’s very strange to have someone look up at him literally. There’s barely an inch’s difference between them, but still.

“Something on your mind?” Party Poison asks.

“What about you? What’s on your mind?”

Poison hums absently and noncommittally. Ghoul can hear them tap their fingers on the surface of the roof, the soft thrum catching his attention. “Not much. Just about the Girl. Her fifth birthday is coming up and I wanna do something nice.”

“Ah.” Ghoul has no idea what a five year old would like. Well, he knows the Girl, but Party Poison knows her much better anyway. The Girl doesn’t seem to care for him all that much, which is fair, considering he has nearly blown her up a couple of times. “Party Poison…”

Party Poison seems to become more alert. The usage of their full name garners their attention and they glance over at Ghoul, uncertainty in their eyes. “Something wrong?”

“No, not technically, but I…” Ghoul swallows thickly, thinking about the sticky blood and the lacking pulse and the way their heart had been shattered just like his parents. He licked his lips. “You died.”

“Oh, is this about the raid? Korse had his gun set on stun. I’m fine.”

“Poison. I know dead bodies when I see them. You were a corpse. You died.”

Party twisted their body to face Ghoul. Something indescribable was written on their features. “People don’t come back from the dead, Ghoul.”

“Is that so?” Ghoul stared right back at them. “I’ve heard the same stories and rumors you have, about the Witch bringing those worthy back to life in exchange for a toll. Is that impossible, Witch devotee?”

Poison remained silent.

“I just… I want to know.” Fun Ghoul isn’t even sure what he’s trying to ask. “Are those rumors about you dying all those times true? Do you have some sort of deal with the Witch? How many times have you died? Why?”

Party turns their eyes back to the sky. A silence passed, and a gentle breeze tosses their hair. Did Ghoul overwhelm them? Were his questions not clear? 

“The Phoenix Witch allows for a person to come back to life in exchange for a toll. It must be an equal barter, so the toll must be worth your soul. Every time She anchors your soul back into your body and resurrects you, She leaves behind a single crow feather.” Party Poison’s eyes are hard. “Like a receipt, I guess. “

Ghoul isn’t sure where they’re going with this. He watches as Party Poison digs into one of the pockets on their fanny pack, and reveals a clump of feathers in their hands. They splay them on the rooftop before grabbing another handful. The glossy gleam of the feathers illuminated in the cracks of moonlight that pilfered through the polluted atmosphere.

Fun Ghoul counts each feather, each tally marking Party Poison’s past deaths. He counts them carefully to ensure he gets the right total.

Twenty-three times.

He counts them again. No, that’s not right.

Twenty-three times.

Fun Ghoul feels sick at the thought. He glances at Poison whose expression is one of apathy. His friend has died twenty-three times. Some before they had even met. If the Phoenix Witch had deemed them worthless, they never would have met.

Party Poison regards him with a strange expression. “Are you alright?”

Ghoul’s not sure what he’s feeling, but one of the emotions is definitely anger. Anger at the Witch for allowing Party Poison to die, angry at Party Poison for being so reckless, angry for the Girl and Newsie and Hot Chimp and Jet and Kobra because their friend and sibling figure could have just been snuffed out so many times. Angry that his parents were never given this opportunity like Party Poison, angry that all of his other friends have to stay buried six feet under.

But that anger doesn’t last for long. Instead it turns into a soft sorrow. Ghoul plants a hand on Party Poison’s shoulder, which seems to startle the redhead. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Clearly, that’s not the reaction Poison had anticipated. Neither of them are keen on apologizing, especially to each other, so Ghoul understands why those words must be strange to hear.

“You’ve died Party Poison.” Ghoul isn’t sure how to articulate the feelings he has now. “Isn’t that scary? Isn’t that bad?”

Party remains quiet, staring at the feathers that litter the roof. “No, not all the time.”

“There’s always a toll to pay, isn’t there? Aren’t you tired of giving up so many things just to stay alive? Aren’t you tired of having to fight to stay alive? Aren’t you tired of dying?”

“There’s always a toll to pay,” Poison repeats. “But I can always pay it. It’s not a big deal. Items worth your soul are easy once you put value into the things around you. The sacrifices aren’t bad. I’ve sacrificed boots, watches, bangles, barrettes, belts, and so many other things. Sure, it’s sad to part with them, because I’ve put enough worth on them to equal my soul, and oftentimes they were gifts from other people. That belt you gave me after our first fight? I had to give that up. But, well. It’s worth it to stay alive.”

Ghoul isn’t sure how to react. He’s listening to Poison speak but the words just aren’t quite registering. The fact that that hideous belt he gave them nearly five years ago meant so much to Party it became equal in value to their very soul flattered Ghoul to no end. It also terrified him to no end.

“How could you have died so many times?”

“Easy. All those solo missions I did come at a cost.” Party Poison’s eyes narrow. “You were right. One person can’t function without a team. Eighteen of these feathers prove that.”

Ghoul’s blood ran cold at the thought. Eighteen of those feathers came within the time Party escaped the city and the time they met up with Ghoul, Jet, and Kobra. That’s barely within a year and a half. 

“Party…” Ghoul doesn’t know what to say. What does he say? “Isn’t the Phoenix Witch… doesn’t She have, like, a limit on how many times you can die?”

Party’s face twists into a strange smile. Ghoul is frankly unnerved. “No.”

Ghoul waits for further information, but Poison doesn’t offer any. “Well, why not?”

“Because it’s not my time to stay dead,” they state, like it’s simple. “Besides, She doesn’t mind me dropping by every so often. She gets a little lonely, you know.”

Ghoul remains silent, processing everything he’s learned. Party Poison has died twenty three times. At this rate and given their apathy to dying, they’ll probably die twenty three more. Party Poison treasures every gift given to them enough that those gifts become items worth their soul. The Witch doesn’t care if Party Poison dies as long as they pay the toll. Their time of actual death is already set in stone.

All in all, Ghoul’s not liking any of this.

And really, this is only furthering his theory about who the Girl’s mother is. The fact that Party Poison seems to be so buddy-buddy with the Witch, that the Witch doesn’t care how many times they die, that the Witch is lonely and might even enjoy Party Poison’s company, that the Girl only writes letters to her mother to be delivered by the Witch, that the Girl has strange electric powers no one else seems to notice, that in all those deaths Party formed a bond with the Witch and managed to get a kid in the same period… well. Ghoul’s hypothesis might be proven true tonight.

“Got anything else on your mind?” Party Poison asks, as if they had just been discussing a new mission and Ghoul’s a little confused on a certain part. As if this was all routine. Ghoul’s stomach churned.

Fuck, since Party’s being so chatty, why not ask about something that’s been burning him from the inside. “Who are the Girl’s real parents?”

“I already told you.”

“Let me guess their names. Just tell me if I’m right.”

Party Poison watched Fun Ghoul. Their eyes met, and Ghoul could feel the weight of their stare. They sighed. “Go for it, but I think you already know the answer.”

“First name I'm going with is… Party Poison.”

Party Poison has the balls to not look surprised. They simply flicked their eyes back towards the stars. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I think you’re one of her parents.”

“I always thought Jet Star would be the first to figure it out.” Party Poison hums. “He probably was and just decided not to say anything. I probably could have straight up told Kobra that I had a kid and he wouldn’t believe me. I guess the idea of his little sibling having a kid before him is too weird.”

Ghoul watches Party Poison speak. There’s something sarcastic in the way they talk, and Ghoul isn’t sure how to feel.

“You’re right, Ghoul. The Girl’s my bastard child. How’d you figure it out?”

“You look alike.” Ghoul tried to speak his findings. “You have the same eyes.”

There’s a bit of red dusting Poison’s cheeks. “Really?”

“Yeah. Same smile, too. And same hair color. You guys look almost exactly alike.”

Party Poison smiles softly. “She looks a lot like her mother, too.”

“So who’s the mother?” Fun Ghoul asks. He’s asked this question many times, but neither the Girl nor Poison ever answers him straight. He hopes this time will be different, because he is filled to the brim with curiosity. He thinks he knows the answer, but hearing it spoken out loud wouldn’t be the same.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Poison’s eyes are glimmering with something akin to mischief, yet also sorrow. A playful melancholy.

“I didn’t believe you were capable of parenthood, but you’ve proved me wrong. I also didn’t believe Jet could play the piano, but he could. Try me.” Fun Ghoul spits out the words like a challenge. It’s a dare.

Poison hums, and continues to watch the stars. They seem to be weighing the consequences of telling him, and Fun Ghoul’s confidence in finally solving this mystery begins to decline. 

“The Phoenix Witch.”

“Huh?” Fun Ghoul’s not sure he actually heard them correctly. He’s not actually right, is he? That crack theory can’t possibly be true?

“She’s the mother,” they state simply, as if they’re not implying they fucked God. Oh, Jesus. Oh boy.

Fun Ghoul feels a migraine threatening. He feels like he’s about to implode from those three words. He was right. He was right, and that actually means Party Poison actually fucked god. The possibility of being right felt slim given the fact he was betting on Party being able to seduce god, but they did. They did that. Holy shit.

“What the hell?” He finally croaks. He was right. Party Poison seduced the Phoenix Witch. The Girl really is semi-divine. Oh, god.

A coy smile snakes its way across Poison’s lips. They gave Ghoul an amused expression. “Don’t believe me?”

“How? How did…? Are you a couple?” 

“I died a lot.” A simple, underwhelming yet loaded statement. “I flirted with Her a lot as well. I fell in love with Her because back then, She had been my only constant. Everytime I fell, She picked me up, dusted me off, and let me go in exchange for a bracelet or two. It was nice to feel so cared for, you know? I’d been so alone in the city and I.. It was nice having someone who looked past all your flaws, who put up with your bullshit, and who disregarded your past. She didn’t care about who I was. She cared about who I will be…

“ I think She just used to see me as this story She wrote. She didn’t see me as anything but what I represented, She didn’t look past my fate. But I spent so much time with Her- and I mean, a lot of time- and I think She slowly fell in love with me, too.” They toss their hair and plaster on a smug grin. “What can I say, I’m rather charming.”

They pick up a feather and watch as a breeze gently ruffles it. “Honestly, it still surprises me. But She does love me, even if She doesn’t like to admit it. And I don’t really know how to label our relationship… it’s complicated. I mean, I had a kid with Her and all, but I guess we’re technically not together. It’s weird.”

“Could you move on to someone else?”

“I’ve thought about it, but never seriously. I don’t think I would ever want to, anyway.” Party Poison has a contemplative expression. “I.. I still love Her. I don’t think I could ever stop.”

“The Girl?” Ghoul mutters. “How did she happen?”

Party winked. “Come on, don’t tell me I have to give you the sex talk.”

Ghoul turned red. Damn. “You're telling me you fucked the Phoenix Witch?”

“I’m not telling you anything. Just that the Girl was a gift.” Party Poison had a dreamy expression. “A gift of love, for me but also for the desert.”

“How so?”

“She’s gonna be the saviour of the zones. She has a huge destiny on her shoulders. She’s gonna grow up and she’s gonna save everyone. She’s a gift for the people, once I’m long gone.”

The words chilled Ghoul to the bone. “Do you know her fate?”

“No. I just know she’s going to become a legend.” 

“The Witch is all about destiny and fate and shit. She already wrote your story. Did She… know She was going to fall in love with you and have a kid?”

“I don’t know.” Party Poison’s voice is soft. “I don’t know if She fell in love with me out of a sense of duty, to help create the Girl so the destinies She’s written can grow. I don’t know Her motivations, and I don’t know how much control She has over the world. But I just know that I love Her, and that I would throw away my destiny if it meant I could protect the Girl forever.”

“Are you going to… keep dying?”

“Not if I can help it. I don’t really want this secret spreading. People are already convinced I’m either a vampire or the next messiah. Dying and coming back at inappropriate times is something I’m trying to avoid.” They shrug. “But hey, if I die, I die. It just means I get to spend some time with the goddess I love.”

“Aren’t you afraid that one of these days you’ll die for real? That the Phoenix Witch will refuse a bargain and decide that you’ve had all your chances and that it’s time for you stay? Aren’t you afraid that She’ll tell you your time's up?”

“No.” Party Poison’s eyes are glimmering strangely in the moonlight. “When I die for real, it won’t be because the Witch is calling for me. That’s not how it works. She’s already written my destiny and your destiny and everyone’s destiny- She knows that when I die for real, I won’t be bartering with Her. I’ll be willing to stay there. It’s not Her choice- it’s mine. And it’s a choice I have to make one of these days. It’s not Her call anymore.”

A thought occurs to Fun Ghoul. Party Poison mentioned that it wasn’t their time. “Do you know how you’ll die?” 

Party tilts their head away from Ghoul. For a brief moment, Poison’s eyes looked almost watery. They couldn’t be…? “Yes and no. I know what I’ll die for, and I’ve got a feeling I know by who. Destiny isn’t set in stone though. It’s a choice. The Witch can tell me all She likes about my death and how to avoid it, but She knows that I’ll chose the same answer no matter what.”

“Ah.” Ghoul doesn’t know what to say or ask anymore. He’s still trying to process the fact that Party Poison fucked what is in essence a God, and then had a demigod child. Party Poison has died twenty three times, managed to seduce the Angel of Death in that time period, and then had an actual kid. 

Ghoul really misses the days before Party Poison showed up in his life. Everything was so much easier.

“Are you gonna tell anyone?”

“No.” Party Poison hums as they scrape up the crow feathers and place them back in their fanny pack. “This stays between you and me.”

“Why?”

“Well, the Witch’s and mine’s relationship is technically supposed to be a secret. It’s just really personal, and I’ll have to explain that I’ve died so many times. And Kobra doesn’t even believe in the Witch. Plus, the less people that know, the less this likely this information can get placed in the wrong hands.” Party Poison’s eyes narrow. “If BLi finds out I have a semi divine child, well, let’s just say we’ll have a lot of problems on our hands.”

“Why’d you tell me all this, anyway?” Ghoul didn’t understand why out of all the members he was the one to be trusted.

“You’re the one who asked.” Party Poison falters, just briefly, and Ghoul found himself privy to a vulnerability he didn’t realise they possessed. “And, well, I know one of these days I’ll be ghosted. I want someone to have my story, to pass on to the Girl when she’s old enough.”

“Tell her yourself, dipshit.”

Party Poison laughed. It was small but it was genuine. “One day I will. Right now, she doesn’t need a parent who will die for her freedom and who is in a relationship with Death Herself. She just needs a couple of older siblings.”

Party Poison slides off the roof of the Trans Am. They stretch, popping their back as they let loose a yawn. “I think I’m going to try and sleep. Night, shithead.”

“Yeah. See ya, bastard.”

Ghoul watches Party Poison dissolve into the night. The darkness swallows them up despite the small distance between the car and the diner. He lets Poison’s hair bleed into his vision even when he lays back down and closes his eyes.

For a split second, he wonders why they don’t just tell the Girl. But he remembers their panic when the Girl though they were her parent. They were afraid she might end up spilling the fact that they were related and BLi will become dead set on destroying her. 

This entire situation felt surreal. Party Poison died in his arms. They’ve actually died twenty two more times. They met God, flirted with Her, and eventually fell in love. They had a kid. That kid was destined to save the people. 

Ghoul hates what his life’s coming to.

-

Ghoul watches Party Poison die again and again. Time passes and still Ghoul never gets comfortable with it. Everytime he sees Party Poison limp and breathless, everytime he feels for a pulse he knows isn’t there, it sends chills up his spine and his stomach into knots. All he can think of is his parents, his parents who had been young and reckless and who only wanted to save the world, who died right in front of him just like Party Poison keeps doing.

Death means nothing to Party Poison. He knows their perceptions are skewed, because they’ve died so many times it just doesn’t matter. But it matters to Ghoul. It matters so much, because he’s terrified one of these days Party Poison will ditch them for the Witch and won’t wake up.

No one seems to catch on. Ghoul’s the only one in on their secret. And it’s tearing Ghoul apart because he can’t stand watching them die and die and die again and again and again. 

He gets it. Party Poison can afford it. Party Poison is more reckless, more willing to take the hits because they can afford it. If Jet Star or Kobra Kid or even Ghoul was killed, they might not come back. But Party Poison can always pay the toll, because Party Poison has a destiny that requires them to fulfill it. It’s not their time.

Ghoul understands. That doesn’t stop him from approaching Party Poison after every firefight, demanding to see their collection of feathers. That doesn’t stop him from counting every feather twice, just to see if Party Poison died when he wasn’t looking, just to check. 

It doesn’t stop the dread in the pit of his stomach every time he looks at the Girl. It doesn’t stop the fear he feels everytime he realises that the Girl is going to do what they couldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from watching Party Poison and knowing that they will die young, and that they are going to die for the Girl. There’s no doubt in his mind that she’s going to be the cause of their death.

Ghoul prays to the Witch, something he used to do in very rare cases. He prays he’s wrong.

He doesn’t think She’ll answer him.

-

A month before the Girl turns six, everything turns to shit.

All of the fear Ghoul’s been feeling finally accumulated and manifested into something tangible. His worst fears were slowly coming to life, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Korse chases them all around Route Guano. It didn’t seem anything other than routine, really, until it wasn’t. Until they found themselves lining up like cowboys in the old western movies Ghoul liked to watch. Until the Girl was blasting Mad Gear and The Missile Kid, watching with an intensity over the battle. At least Ghoul was going to die to a killer sound track.

Party Poison squared off with Korse. Ghoul found himself facing a Drac. Jet Star and Kobra Kid had their guns loaded, pointed at their own Dracs. There was a tension to the air, something charged and electric. Something dangerous and different to the usual game of cat and mouse.

Something changed.

Ghoul knows that there’s no way they’re getting out of this clap alive.

Suddenly, the Dracs whipped their guns up. Electricity crackled in the thick air. Ghoul squeezed his trigger and prayed that they would live, that this would be fine, that this wasn’t any different than any of the other times they faced Korse and his men. 

Ghoul collapsed to the ground, feeling his stomach smouldering and the scent of burnt flesh following him into unconsciousness.

-

Fun Ghoul drifts, in and out, in and out, like consciousness is a sliding scale and Ghoul is just hitting it back and forth. The sounds of shouting grab his attention, and he forces him back into the land of the living. No, he can’t die. He needs to get a grip.

The silence is deafening, now. He sees the Girl a bit aways, getting dragged off by Korse. The air is empty and smoke corrodes the beauty of the desert.

There’s some shuffling next to him. Every neuron flares in him as he turns his neck to see the cause of the noise.

It’s slow, but he watches the tangle of limbs that is Party Poison slowly get back up. Their red hair is glowing in the sunlight, and Ghoul finds himself staring in awe from below. There’s a searing wound on their heart, still smoking and Ghoul knows barely any time has passed and yet it still feels like an eternity since he’d been shot.

Party Poison is standing. The gun in their hand quivers, but Ghoul watches them pull the trigger. He can see their eyes, he can see the flames of rage, the determination, the sparks within. The shot echoes in Ghoul’s eardrum, destroying the silence that blanketed the zones.

The laser pierced Korse’s shoulder. It doesn’t do anything, really- the man is more android than human. Every injury he sustains will be fixed easily. But it still sends a pleasure down Ghoul’s spine to see blood get drawn.

The gun drops from Party Poison’s fingers. They look like they’re on the verge of collapsing, but they still manage to stand up right, shoulders taught and chest pushed out. They’re still proud and defiant despite the sway in their posture, despite their knees looking seconds away from buckling.

Korse stalks over, letting go of the Girl in favour of Party Poison. The Girl is shrieking, screaming and thrashing and refusing to go down without a fight, but it’s not enough. Ghoul watches her get shoved into the back seat of a white van, and watches as she disappears with the slam of a car door.

Korse is suddenly much closer than Ghoul remembers. Ghoul’s fading, he can feel it. His vision is splotchy and his eyes are drooping, but he’s not letting go. Not yet.

Korse leers over Party Poison, the height difference near laughable. And even though Party Poison is craning their neck to look up at him, the way Party Poison is composed makes them seem more imposing. The confidence, the lack of fear, it makes them seem just as big as Korse.

“Don’t tell me you thought that would change anything.” Korse croons, and he cups Party Poison’s cheeks. Ghoul himself feels vile rise in his throat, and he sees disgust flicker across Party Poison’s face as they try to move away. Korse doesn’t let them, and instead tilts their head up so they are truly eye to eye. “Still, impressive shot. Even after all these years, my training remains as impeccable as always.”

“You have nothing to do with me,” Party Poison growls. Their voice is hoarse and gravely and venomous. 

Korse suddenly kicks Party Poison’s knees. Party collapsed to the ground, and Korse leers over them, placing a boot against their chest, right over the terrible burn on their heart. Ghoul can feel Party’s wince in pain.

“Oh, stop acting so tough. I have everything to do with you. I molded you into what you are today. I trained you into that killing machine you still are. You’re still just a weapon I crafted. You’re a piece of plastic I molded into a grenade. You are who you are because of me, and you lasted this long because of me.” Korse bends over, his face inches from Party Poison’s. Ghoul watches the man finger his gun. “I made you.”

Party Poison’s brows are furrowed. “You turned me into a monster. I’m not that thing anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think. You’re still the gun that I command to fire. You’re still that piece of plastic. You’re a weapon, Party Poison, and no matter how many heroic acts you try to pull, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve killed 267 of your so called desert peers. You think you’ve changed? You think you’re better than me? You think you’re a saint now?”

Korse jams a gun into Party Poison’s temple. His fingers hover over the trigger. Ghoul’s stomach churns. “You’re still drenched in the same blood as me. You’re still the monster you’ve always been. You left BLi, but that doesn’t matter. The damage has already been dealt. You’re a weapon, and you did your job.”

Party Poison growls, something dark bubbling in their throat. Korse moves his foot from their chest to their throat. Party Poison is scratching at his leg, weakly truly to fight to their last breath. It’s obvious blood loss is catching up to them from how pale they’ve gotten. 

“Any last words?” 

Party Poison spits at him. Blood laced saliva hits Korse’s cheek.

Korse gives them a cheeky smile. “Let’s hope you stay dead this time, if only for your sake.”

The shot rings out across the desert. If Ghoul wasn’t about to pass out, he would probabaly have thrown up everything he’s ever eaten. 

Party Poison goes still. Their hands limply fall to the ground. Blood pools around their head, dying their hair and even darker shade of red.

The last thing Ghoul sees before he fades away is Party Poison’s dead eyes.

-

The world around him is strangely white. Not completely white, however, as flecks of black speckle the clean surface. It appears to mimic the night sky, except the stars have become black holes and the infinite vastness of the horizon has become a bright white.

He wonders how far this plane of existence spans. Is it as infinite as the sky above? How vast is this purgatory?

The sound of rustling feathers captivates his attention. A single black feather drifted into his vision, and he spun around to face the Being he recognised before he even laid eyes on Her.

The Phoenix Witch is taller than he anticipated, though a Being of Death ought to be tall and imposing, he supposed. Her face is shrouded in a white mask, Her fingers are clawed, and She appears to be made out of pure darkness. She composes Herself as a crow does, a curious tilt to Her head as She watches him with an intellect unrivaled. Idly, Fun Ghoul thinks of Party Poison’s comment: “The Girl looks a lot like her mother.”

He stares at Her, trying to see how. He supposes the answer lays behind Her mask. Party Poison must be the only person privy to what Her true face looks like. Huh.

“Fun Ghoul, the atomic bomb,” She greets, and Ghoul’s blood immediately runs cold. No one’s called him that since his parents died. After all, they were the ones who gave him that nickname. “Funny, how history repeats?”

“What do you mean?” He knows.

“You four are the last of the true killjoys, now, just as your parents had been. And now you’ve all been gunned down and killed by Korse. Now, the true lives of the Fabulous Killjoys will be another story amongst the future generations, just as your parents became.”

“We’re not dead yet.”

“No?” She tilts Her head. “I’ve only been collecting souls since the beginning of time, so correct me if I’m wrong, but if you’re seeing me here in this plane of existence that acts as a bridge between the land of the living and the land of the dead, well, it means you’re dead, doesn’t it?”

“But I don’t have to stay that way, right? I can barter with you?”

“Has Party Poison passed on my secret?” She clicked Her tongue. “Of course- the chatterbox has been ruining my career by telling everyone my secrets. But to answer your question, yes. I can let you go back into the land of the living, but there’s a price.”

“An item that’s worth my soul?”

“Great, now I can’t even finish my over dramatic speech.” She sighs. “Yes, yes. Give me whatever you think is equal to your soul.”

Ghoul glanced at himself. What does he have that could possibly please Her? What could he possibly carry on him that could save his soul?

She leaned on Her shopping cart, idly looking at Her nails. “Not to rush you, but I do have a tight schedule to run. I still have to meet with Party Poison after this, and, well, I’d like to get to it.”

The thought strikes Ghoul: he’s cockblocking God. It nearly makes him bubble over in laughter, but he tries his best to remain as collected as possible. “Party Poison died?”

She gives him an unimpressed look. Despite the mask covering Her face, She was surprisingly expressionate. “You’re the one who watched them get shot in the head. Do you think they survived?”

Ghoul’s humour crashed at the thought. He quickly pats himself down, trying to think of something important to him? What’s important to him? Everything of his parents is at home, sitting in the diner. What could possibly be of value?

He knows.

He slips the bracket off his wrist and holds it out to Her. “Here.”

She doesn’t take it. “And pray tell, How is it important?”

Ghoul smiles, softly. “Oh, I think you’ll like it. It was a gift from Party Poison themself. You know how rare that is.”

Her eyes narrow as She leans in. “Continue.”

“I saved their life, once. It was a long time ago, during a really bad raid. I didn’t realise death didn’t mean shit to them, you know, because of you. Anyway, I saw Korse was about to kill them. He was a few yards out, and we were in a village off of Zone Seven. Korse shot at a house that was structurally unsound. It nearly collapsed on top of Party Poison. I don’t know why, ‘cause we’d only met just months prior, but I shoved them to the ground and covered them with my body. Took the brunt of the hit.”

He fingers the beads idly. “Broke a few bones and had some nasty burns, ‘cause they had set the village on fire, of course. Party Poison never said thank you, ‘cause that’s not their style. But they gave me this in return.” He holds it out to Her again. “I think that was the point our relationship really changed. I mean, I hated that bastard for a very long time. They didn’t trust us, and Kobra seemed to be replacing Jet and me with them. But I get it now, I think. They had a lot on their plate, and Kobra just found his real blood sibling. I was just a jealous asshole, and Party Poison was just a paranoid fuck. And I think once I showed how much they meant to me, we grew closer.”

“Well, that’s just sweet.” She plucked the beads from his hand, and seemed to be weighing them.

“Seemed only fitting, since you’re the one protecting them now.” Ghoul hums.

There’s a pause. She watches him with a strange intensity as She clasps the string of beads. Ironically enough, they were prayer beads. How interesting, to give a god prayer beads.

“It passes the toll,” She finally relents. It suddenly comes to his attention that in the shopping cart is his mask. She slips on the prayer beads and reaches for his mask. There’s much deliberation in Her movements as She dusts the mask off.

She moves closer to Ghoul, until they are barely a foot apart. Ghoul suddenly becomes very aware of how small he is, both physically and figuratively compared to Her.

She hands him his mask. There’s a lull in time as She keeps Her grip on the mask just as he holds on. Something strange passed in the air.

She lets go.

He holds his mask tight to his chest. He can feel his soul flicker from existence, and it’s a strange feeling, one entirely indescribable.

“Fun Ghoul.” Her fingers grip his wrist. Her sleeve drifts in an imperceptible breeze, and Fun Ghoul catches a glimpse at a pair of golden bangles. The same bangles Party Poison used to wear, which had been a gift from Show Pony. It makes Ghoul’s lips nearly lift into a smile.

“Yes?”

She pauses. “Take care of them, alright?”

She doesn’t have to say the name. Ghoul smiles as Her. “I will. As long as you do the same.”

She scoffs. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last twenty-four years?”

She lets go, and Ghoul fades out of Her domain.

-

Jet Star shakes him awake. Fun Ghoul was one second away from greeting slapped by Jet Star, apparently. Jet Star breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank the Witch.”

Jet Star apparently woke up first. Jet Star moves away from Ghoul to go try and shake Kobra Kid back into the land of living. Ghoul immediately set his eyes on Party Poison.

Party Poison’s eyes are closed. There’s a double wound, one shot to their chest and one to their forehead. The blood that pooled beneath their head formed a strange halo, dying their hair a darker shade of red.

Ghoul desperately hopes the Witch was returning their soul.

He hovered over them and felt for their pulse. He could hear Kobra Kid wake up from the sound of hoarse coughing and an excited gasp from Jet Star. He sat there, pressing his fingers against their wrist, waiting and waiting for the pulse to jump back and continue the same strong and steady rhythm it usually pulsed.

Come on.

Come on.

Party Poison’s eyes sprung open just as Ghoul felt their pulse practically jump. Ghoul notices they’re missing an earring in their left ear, a precious gift from Hot Chimp.

The group reconvenes to assess the damage. Considering nobody else seems to be freaking out about having met the Witch, Ghoul decides that it’s a safe bet to make that neither Kobra nor Jet had died in the raid. The stupid Dracs must have had their guns still set on stun.

The damage is obvious. The Girl is missing.

It’s not the only major problem. Ghoul is bleeding out from the side of his mouth. Jet Star’s eye wound has flared up. Kobra Kid is limping and Ghoul thinks their ankle might be broken. Party Poison’s still bleeding from the head and there’s definitely something wrong about the way their wrist is bent.

The Girl missing, however, takes the cake.

Ghoul can see the anger within Party Poison’s eyes. He can see the fire, the spitting embers and sparks that are threatening to burst into a wildfire at any moment. Ghoul knows that this is the turning point. He knows this event is going to shape the Fab Four’s history.

He has a feeling they’re about to reach their destiny.

-

They regroup and they resupply. There’s nothing they can do until they stock up on ammunition and batteries and food. They need to prepare before they try to plan some sort of grand resurgence.

They lay low. They broadcast a sort of twisted version of the clap. Dr. D reports that Jet Star and Kobra Kid died in the firefight off of Route Guano. It’s ironic, given how Party Poison and him were the ones who actually died. Ghoul doesn’t mention that, though.

They wait. 

Ghoul can see how Party Poison is burning from the inside out. He can see that Party Poison is on the verge of imploding.

It's only a matter of time before they snap.

-

It’s a hot day in June when their world completely turns upside down. If Ghoul thought the Girl being taken from them was the worst day of his fucking life, well, this is an easy contest.

They’re at Dr. Death Defying’s shack now. They’ve been hiding there as they stock up on supplies and try to rally up any help they can get. Dr. D himself is in his recording room, reorganising some music and preparing for his broadcast. Cherri Cola and Show Pony are loafing around, trying to offer their assistance whenever they can. 

The radio on the table next to Ghoul suddenly springs to life. Ghoul almost drops the bomb he’s trying to rewire in his surprise. Immediately, everyone around him is set on alert.

“Hello, desert rats.”

Korse’s voice chills the air. The room goes dead silent. Show Pony drops the conversation they were chatting with Jet Star and Kobra Kid stops clanging the wrench he was holding for Jet on the table. The room is so quiet Ghoul is certain a pin could drop and everyone would hear it.

“My name is Korse, the Scarecrow that I’m sure you’ve heard stories about. You never could have seen me, otherwise you’d certainly be a corpse,” the voice began simply, with an air of ice and his words dripping with vileness. “I have quite the information to share with you desert rats, information you’ll find particularly important and relevant. Information regarding your little leader, the one with a penchant for red and flamboyancy. Party Poison?”

All eyes drifted to Party Poison. The redhead didn’t seem to notice, their eyes trained on the floor, their fists balled up so tight Ghoul could see their knuckles were paperwhite. 

“Your leader’s been keeping a nasty secret from you,” he continues. “Haven’t you ever wondered where that turbulent fool came from? One day, the rebel just appeared, and did you ever question it?”

Oh no.

“I’ll tell you where your precious messiah came from. Battery City. They came right from the heart, the very center of BLI’s headquarters. They were no ordinary civilian, no bumbling child. Your hero was an exterminator.” A city name drips from Korse’s lips, and the name sent shivers down Ghoul’s spine because he knows that name. Everyone knows that name.

That’s the name of the exterminator that disappeared a month before Party Poison arrived. That was the exterminator that massacred his friends, that slaughtered his peers, that mercilessly took and took again and again from the people of the desert. They created a desolate feeling within the zones. 

Silence hovered over them as the words sunk in. Cherri Cola’s eyes were wide, Jet Star’s jaw literally dropped, Kobra Kid’s wrench nearly fell out of his hands, and Show Pony physically recoiled from the words. Ghoul just kept his eyes trained on Party Poison, watching as their nails drew blood from the palm of their fists. 

“You heard me. They were an exterminator. At first, they had been a Drac, but they had been so great at mindlessly killing that they were promoted to becoming an exterminator. If they’d stayed behind a little longer, they would have been promoted into becoming a Scarecrow, just like me. Isn’t that rather interesting?

“Your hero is not a hero. What blood stains their hands? Not the villains of the story. It is not the blood of Dracs that they killed to supposedly protect you. It is the blood of your peers. It is the blood of your brothers and sisters, your friends, family, and lovers. They have killed your people, ruthlessly slaughtered countless desert rats like you, with no remorse nor mercy.

“Do you think they are capable of changing such a nature? A nature filled with carnage and bloodshed? A nature of viewing others as dispensable, viewing human lives meaningless? Do you believe they can change into someone worth listening to?

“Do you believe your leader to be someone other than a weapon against you?

“You’re a fool to think so. They are not your hero. They are your villain. Do you wish to destroy BLI? Do you wish to be rid of those whom you deem as senseless murderers? Do you wish to dispose of me? Then you must destroy them as well in your dreams of justice. Two hundred and sixty-seven of your friends and family lay rotting in the sand by their hand. Did you know that’s the third highest kill count in the history of BLI?

“I implore you to listen to my words. You may choose not to believe me, but I hope you will not remain blind. If you find my doings unjust, then you must not become a hypocrite and keep your back facing your leader. Because Party Poison won’t hesitate to stab your back as they did to the first two hundred and sixty-seven of you.

“This is Korse, signing off with one last message. Do not trust a weapon you never loaded.”

Static filled the air.

The sound of blood splattering against the floor was the only thing that registered in Ghoul’s mind as he watched the blood from Party Poison’s hands drip. There is a lull, a gentle pause.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

“Is it true?” Jet Star’s voice is quiet. Fragile.

Party Poison remains deathly quiet, still clenching their fist, still staring at the floor.

Cherri Cola lashes out. “Answer him!”

Party Poison doesn’t even acknowledge him.

A clock ticks in the background. It’s the only sound except Ghoul’s heartbeat.

“Come on, Poison! Tell him it’s not true! We know it’s not! Come on!” Ghoul is begging, trying to swallow his anger, trying to swallow down the fact that he knows the answer. The conversation between Korse and Party Poison, where he watched Party Poison die, was casted away as nothing more than a delusion related to blood loss. But Ghoul knows. 

He understands it now. 

(There had been that famous exterminator that escaped a month before Party Poison. No, they escaped at the same time. The Battery City Idol and Party Poison were one and the same.)

Party Poison finally lifts their gaze. Their eyes are empty, and the anger in Ghoul’s stomach extinguished. “Korse is right.”

“What?”

“Stop fucking around.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“What do you want to hear?” Party Poison stands up. Their eyes are on fire. They run a bloodied hand through their hair, smearing their own blood in their already vibrant hair. “Huh? What do you want? The truth? Korse told it, okay? Okay?”

“I thought you were a secretary.” Kobra Kid’s voice is nearly imperceptible.

“I lied. Don’t be so surprised.” Their tone is sharp. “I lied, because what did you want to hear me say? ‘Hi, I’m your apparent long lost sibling, and I’ve been murdering countless of your peers from the age of thirteen to seventeen.’”

“You killed 267 people.” Cherri Cola’s voice is shaking. “You’re a murderer. You’re a coward.”

“I know.”

“That’s two nuetral villages!” Cherri Cola slams a fist in the wall next to Party Poison. “Do you expect forgiveness? Do you expect us to be your friends? You asshole!”

“Let’s calm down,” Show Pony tried, holding their hands up and trying to move in front of Cherri Cola. 

“No.” Cherri Cola pushed Show Pony away and moved even closer to Party Poison, who remained stock still. They kept their head tilted up, looking just as unshakeable as they had when they stood down Korse. “No. This asshole pretended to be our friend after slaughtering three hundred people. You want to save the desert? You want to save us? You’re exactly the people we’re trying to take down! You’re still an extension of BLi. You’re still just their little weapon!”

Party Poison doesn’t say a word. They keep their head up defiantly, but they don’t object, they don’t deny.

Cherri Cola grabs Party Poison’s mask. The string snaps from the force, and he tosses it to the ground. The sound of the string breaking reverberates in Ghoul’s ears.

“Stop hiding.”

Suddenly, Party Poison’s paranoia made sense. Suddenly, the reason they kept their mask on at all times clicked. They were hiding their face, because that face had been plastered all over Battery City. They hadn’t just been an exterminator, but they had been an Idol, a fancy title given to those who BLi believed could be a perfect role model of the perfect citizen. Crowds would form to watch those Idols execute people.

Ghoul stared at Party Poison’s True Face. He remembers the posters of the exterminator whose Idol name was spoken in a reverence usually kept for Korse. He remembers the raids they pulled, he remembers those posters being printed to warn the desert of their silent foe. He remembers that face.

“You’re a coward,” Cherri Cola repeats. “All you talk about is destroying the system. You’re the system, Party Poison. You’re the weapon we’re trying to disarm.”

“You killed my brother.”

The room is dead silent. 

All eyes turned to Jet Star. Whatever righteous anger Cherri Cola was feeling seemed to disappear as Jet took the stage. Jet’s face is unreadable.

“I did.” Party Poison’s voice is equally soft, equally fragile. “Eight years ago, in the village by Zone Three. I’m sorry.”

“You were sixteen.” Jet Star bites his lip. “He was seventeen.”

The room is deathly silent. Party Poison doesn’t beg for forgiveness. Party Poison keeps their eyes on the ground, obviously ashamed.

“I’m not saying what happened was right, by any means.” Jet Star stares directly at Cherri Cola. “But I think we’re all forgetting something here. Party Poison was literally brainwashed. They were fucking bleached. You think if they hadn’t started out as a blank slate, if they had all their memories and experiences and feelings, they would have gone down that path? It’s obvious they wouldn’t have. BLi fucking kidnapped them because they couldn’t conform. Party Poison killed. There’s no denying it. And there’s no denying that it’s not fair to the victims, that it was awful, and it was a slaughter.

“But I don’t blame them. And you shouldn’t either. If all you’re ever taught when you have no memories of your past life is to faithfully serve this mega corporation, when you’re taught to become a weapon, you think you’d turn out any different?”

Jet Star takes a deep breath. Kobra Kid looks remorseful. Party Poison’s expression is unreadable, but if Ghoul really looked, he was pretty sure they were on the verge of tears.

“Korse is only trying to divide us. He knows that we’re more liable to split up. He wants to create infighting. Are you going to let him win?”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Cherri Cola spits, “when we let this murderer into our home, we already did.”

Cherri Cola walked out, bumping into Party Poison before he slammed the radio shack’s door. Show Pony makes a move to go after him, but Party Poison holds them back. “Don’t bother.”

“Poison, I’m sure he’ll come around…”

“He doesn’t have to.” Party Poison shrugs. “Everything he’s said is right. I’ve killed so many of your friends and brothers. He has a right to be upset, and so do all of you.”

Party Poison rakes their fingers in their hair again. “Jet Star’s right. All Korse is doing is trying to stir up trouble. Now, no one is going to help us save the Girl. That’s what he wanted- to create mistrust.”

Ghoul doesn’t know what to feel. His best friend killed his other best friends. His best friend gets to come back from the dead, time and time again, while his other best friends get to rot in the grave they made for them. His parents were martyrs for the same cause Party Poison had fought against. His parents had died for the freedom Party had tried to strip away from them.

Kobra Kid placed a fist in his palm. “I don’t care if the desert believes we’re the enemy now. I don't care if they don’t believe in us. I’m still by your side.”

Jet Star rubs his eyes. “I never wanted to avenge my brother. I knew BLi used child soldiers to fulfill their wicked dreams. I knew the person who killed him wasn’t much older than him. I wish it hadn’t been you.”

“You don’t have to help.” Party Poison’s voice is rough yet soft, a gentle quality Ghoul’s only heard in rare. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I want to save the Girl.” Jet Star stares deep into Party Poison’s eyes. “I’m not doing it for you. And I’m still kind of angry, I won’t lie. It’s not your fault, not really, but it still stings. But we have to save the Girl, and I won't let this jeopardize our mission.”

“I see.”

“Well, you guys always have my support.” Show Pony hums. “I’ve worked undercover in those rehabilitation centers. I know how that bleaching process works, how the training process works, and I know how impossible it is to break free. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done as long as you try to rectify it.”

Ghoul’s emotions are swimming between rage and forgiveness. He can’t decide, he can’t figure it out. Ghoul’s never been good when it came to feelings- the only feeling he’s comfortable with is the simmering anger that’s been growing within him ever since his parents died. And thats the default he slips on, because he doesn’t know how to react.

“What?” He finally chokes out. “We learn Party Poison has killed three hundred people, and you all are just disregarding that? We’re just ignoring the fact they killed so many of our friends? Are you shitting me?”

“That’s not what we’re doing-“ Kobra’s voice holds a dangerous edge. 

“Yes it is! I get that this is your sibling, you’re bound to them by blood or some shit, but I can’t believe you’re just blindly following them! You’ve been living in this desert for years before they walked back into your life! How many friends have been killed by them? You know people in this desert, you know how many of them have been dusted?” 

Ghoul is frustrated. He doesn’t know what to feel.

“And you!” He points a finger at Jet Star. “They killed your brother! Your brother! Don’t you fucking care about that? How can you be so fucking passive to the fact that your brother’s murderer is standing right in front of you, having paraded as your friend for years?”

“I never pretended.”

“Shut up!” Ghoul screams at Party Poison. Party Poison’s expression is one of apathy, and that sends more anger through Ghoul’s veins. “Shut up! Your word means nothing to me, you asshole! You killer! Shut up!”

“Ghoul, I need you to calm down.” Show Pony put a hand on his shoulder, and Ghoul practically flung himself away.

“No, I won’t calm down. You killed my friends! 

Party Poison doesn’t defend themself. “I did.”

“And we’re just going to brush that aside! How can you people do that?!”

“Fun Ghoul.” Jet Star’s voice is solid, like an anchor, and it almost stops Ghoul in his tracks. “We’re not just forgiving and forgetting, but we have a bigger problem to solve than this.”

“And we’re supposed to trust them to solve this problem? We’re supposed to trust them period? The same person who killed your brother, who killed so many people we know and love? Who knows, maybe Party Poison just gave the Girl up.”

It was a low blow. The words felt vile and revolting, and the instant he spoke them into existence, he felt himself recoil. 

Anger is an emotion Party Poison knows well. There’s a fire burning deep within, ashes and dust make up their entire body. Kobra liked to wax that they were a bringer of peace since they were born the day the last of the wars finally ended. But Ghoul knows that they will bring a war, that the revolution they preach will be brought with bloodshed and rage.

Ghoul knows that fire within Party Poison, because that same anger courses through his own veins.

And Ghoul sees that fire spark within, watches as Party Poison’s eyes light up, watches as their temper finally flares. Not because of what Ghoul had mocked them for, but because of the Girl.

“You have no right,” Party Poison hisses, their voice low and gravelly and threatening. “You have no right to say those words, you have no right to accuse that. You can call me every name, you can condemn me for my sins, I don’t care. But you can not insinuate that I don’t love the Girl. Don’t you dare say that when you know it’s not true.”

Ghoul knows it’s not true. But there’s a fire stirring within him, too. “Maybe it’s not. Maybe you’re a sleeper agent for BLi! Who knows! Not me! But you’ve killed, and who’s to stop you from doing it again? What’s stopping you from turning in the Girl?”

“You know exactly what’s stopping me.” Their eyes are sharp.

Ghoul takes a step forward. “Maybe you made all that up. What’s really stopping you from shooting us all?”

“Because you’re my family! Because I’m not who I was seven years ago! Because I’m not brainwashed and drugged into compliance! Because I have memories that mold me into who I am! Because I have self awareness!”

“Did you have some of that when you shot Jet Star’s brother?”

Party’s eyes turn cold. “Get out.”

“When you kill the Girl, are you gonna blame BLi?”

“Get out!”

Party Poison shoves Ghoul. Ghoul stumbles back, and pushes up his sleeves. They immediately head towards each other, like magnets, preparing to meet so Ghoul could knock a tooth out of them.

Show Pony intervenes, putting a hand on both their chests. Ghoul had never seen them angry before, but now Ghoul could plainly see frustration and rage on their features. “You assholes need to calm the fuck down! I don’t know what’s going on or what sort of information you have about each other, but you need to fucking chill out! Infighting won’t solve shit!”

Ghoul yanks himself back, staring Party Poison dead in the eye. “Yeah, well a weapon produced by BLi won’t either.”

Ghoul walks out of the shack, blocking out any voices that call for him.

-

Ghoul wanders ceaselessly for hours. Eventually, the rage within him dies away, and he feels a sting of guilt for all he said. Some of those things were downright vile and baseless. 

But in that moment he was so filled with anger, all he saw was red.

None of it was fair! It wasn’t fair to Party Poison that they had been turned into a weapon! It wasn’t fair to the people they killed! It wasn’t fair that Party Poison was able to come back from death time and time again while everyone they killed remained six feet under! It wasn’t fair to Jet Star’s brother! It wasn’t fair to the public to see this figure they loved and held dear suddenly become the exact villain they were trying to take down! 

It just wasn’t fair.

Ghoul knew that it was pointless to throw Party Poison under the bus. Ghoul knows everything there is to know about the bleaching process and the pills that are taken in Battery City from Show Pony’s uncover op’s. He knows the bleaching process literally turns a person into a clean slate so BLi can mold them into whatever they want. It’s why Party Poison didn’t remember Kobra Kid- they had been completely wiped.

Party Poison didn’t have experiences to tell them right from wrong. All they had was their squad leader- Korse- to turn them into a weapon and some pills to dull the emotions. It was only by accident Party Poison was able to break free from the drug’s influence. Party Poison’s brain chemistry has always been off, and normal pills don’t work on them. That’s why they had been taken away from their home at twelve- they acted out too much and showed no signs of the pills working. And BLi managed to screw up the dosage they were giving them when they had been a “secretary”, and that was all that was needed to create the menace Party is today, a simple mishap.

Ghoul knows he can’t really blame Party Poison, but who else was he to blame?

Ghoul came back to the radio shack but he didn’t enter. He didn’t want to see the face of the person that killed his friends. He doesn’t want to solve the conflict, not yet. He can’t bring himself to apologize just yet- he still needs to stew before he’s ready to go back in.

So he sits on the door steps and he watches as the sun fades into the horizon. He watches as the sky turns black, as the desert’s warmth becomes frozen. He sits there in silence, listening to the vultures croon.

The door creaks open. 

Dr. Death Defying wheels out next to him. Ghoul wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he was a bit disappointed that it wasn’t Party Poison. After what he said, he didn’t blame them.

They don’t say anything for a long time. Ghoul wonders what’s going on in the good doctor's head. Did he know Party Poison’s past, or was this just as shocking to him as it was to everyone else? 

“Ghoul.” His name is spoken softly. “I’m glad to see you came back on your own. Traversing the desert to search for you in my wheelchair would have been a bit difficult.”

“I’m angry, not stupid. I’m not gonna walk miles away from here.”

“Alright. Why are you angry?”

Ghoul huffs. “You know why.”

“Because Party Poison kept such a big secret from you?”

“It’s not that they kept a secret! It’s the content of that secret! They killed people, Doc! They’ve killed so many of my friends, and your friends! Aren’t you angry? Or did you just already know?” Is that why they never got along- because Dr. D recognised them?

Dr. D hummed. “Not technically, no. I had suspicions. After all, the timing of Party Poison’s appearance and the disappearance of the Battery City Idol always had me on alert. But I never knew Party Poison without a mask on, so I could never confirm.”

“Doesn’t it anger you? That they did so much wrong?”

“A little.” The answer kind of shocked Ghoul, and it must be written on his face. “I’m human too, Ghoul, I’m allowed to feel the full spectrum of emotions.”

“Of course, of course…”

“But I’m not so angry anymore. I’ve never liked Poison much. Never have, probably never will. Out here in the desert, I have seen the rise and fall of so many other killjoys. There have been killjoys just as tenacious as you, just as angry, just as powerful. There have been so many killjoys with the same passion, the same drive to overthrow BLi. But obviously, they never worked.”

Ghoul’s attention has been completely captured. He never hears many stories of the old killjoys, of people before him, because BLi’s tendency to erase history has its claw sunk even in the desert. The story of his own parents likely would have been lost if Ghoul himself hadn’t known them personally.

“In all their anger, in all their defiance, there was one core problem. They were missing an important element- a willingness to change. A willingness to change for the better. These people never considered becoming anything than themselves- and becoming yourself is imperative to the desert culture, and of course an important lesson. But they don’t look beyond being themselves. Just because you are you doesn’t inherently make you a good person. Maybe the real you is stupidly jealous, or always picking fights, or needlessly violent.

“Just because you found yourself doesn’t make you the best version. You have to be willing to change yourself into someone better, you have to be willing to shave away those rough edges you carved into yourself in your search of self discovery. And those past killjoys never did that- they didn’t want to be better. They simply found their true selves and stuck with it. Despite the change they even died for, they couldn’t bring themselves to change.”

Dr. D sighs. It is deep and it holds so many emotions Ghoul couldn’t comprehend. For a moment, a silence reigns over them, and Ghoul has never seen him so weary.

“It there is one aspect of Party Poison I could compliment, it’s that they have that willingness to change. They have not only the capacity to become someone better, but they actively try to become better. They’re not stagnant like so many others, they don’t think their character growth ended when they stepped foot into the desert. Party Poison advocates for change, and is willing to change themself. They’re not perfect by any means, and they never will be. They’re flawed in every sense of the word. But they try to become better everyday, they try to have morals, they _try_. And in this culture of refusing to change, refusing to be anything but yourself and refusing to change yourself if you’re not a good person, well, trying goes a long way.”

Dr. D glances back to Ghoul. “They’re trying, Fun Ghoul. They’re trying to become something better. They’re trying to become the messiah the people want them to be. They’re trying to change, and they have. They’re nothing like the apathetic killer who terrorized our friends. They’re nothing like the lone wolf who refused my help when they first stepped into the desert. They’re not even the person you knew six months ago. They’re changing. And you should too.”

Dr. D doesn’t say anything more. He simply rolls himself back into the shack, and the sound of the door closing echoes in the darkness of the night. Ghoul is left alone to reflect.

Dr. D is right. Ghoul’s never had too high of an opinion of the man. He respects the power he holds and how deep his loyalty to the rebellion stands, but he knows the man would stab them in the back if it meant gaining even a foot of traction against BLi. He knows the Doctor only sees them as pawns, as sacrifices to be used in some twisted chess game. Dr. D is not a good man. 

But he is right.

Because change is the most important power a person can have. Change is something BLi doesn’t have- consistency is rewarded and any outlier is aptly punished. Change is what the people have, but no one uses it.

Ghoul doesn’t change. If he’s honest, he hasn’t changed since he was fifteen and he started the gang with Jet Star and the Kobra Kid. He’s still that angry fifteen year old, trigger happy and always on the verge of exploding. He’s him, but he’s not the best version, not by far.

To be a better person, to be a good person? Ghoul never considered it. He already thought he was. But he’s not. He’s just as immoral, just as willing to cheat and steal and kill as any of the other desert dwellers. And so is the Kobra Kid. And so is Jet Star, though maybe to a lesser degree.

Ghoul watches the night sky. Ghoul thinks about the Phoenix Witch. What did She see, falling in love with Party Poison? Did She see the killer that destroyed so many of the stories She wrote? Did She see the vicious murderer who killed so many of the people She would lead into the afterlife?

Did She see how far they would come? How they would change? 

Ghoul listens to the crows caw, and he knows.

-

Ghoul eventually comes back inside. Party Poison is nothing but cold to him, and Ghoul forces out an apology. He never apologizes, if it can be helped, but change is necessary.

Ghoul wants to become a good person, too.

They make up. It’s tense, and there’s still an underlying anger between them, but they’re still friends. Ghoul can’t change the past, and he can’t change what he said in his fit of anger, but he can change his future actions.

Change is all he has. And it’s all anyone else has.

-

Thousands of calls pour into the radio station, demanding to know the truth. Ghoul thinks they already know- Korse could have accused them at anytime. But Korse let the bomb drop, he put himself into the homes of every person and he spilled the information. And he thinks everyone already knows, they already pieced together the clues even before Korse.

Party Poison remains silent for the next few days. Likely, the silence is enough to confirm the desert’s worst fears. But they want a direct answer. Party Poison gives it to them.

“You can tell them it’s not true,” Kobra pleads. “No one would know!”

“They deserve to know.” Party Poison shrugs. “If I don’t tell them, there’s always going to be an underlying fear and disdain. I want them to know, but I want them to know the full story. It’s not fair to them to have their hero be nothing but a fraud.”

So Party Poison gets on Dr. D’s station, and they tell a story. They tell a story of a kid who was taken away from their home, how they were bleached. They tell the story of a teen who killed, who rose in ranks and became an idol. They tell the story of a teen who managed to break free from the system, who uses their inside information to lead a rebellion. They tell the truth.

Ghoul thinks that if they had a little more time, they could twist this into fuel for the fires of rebellion. To think that BLi had such a hole in their system that would get exploited by their own Idol? That the perpetrator would become a leader in the rebellion? That a person could change, that BLi wasn’t so iron fisted?

If they had just a little more time, this story could probably inspire.

But they don’t have time.

The public practically riots. Their messiah, the person they put on a pedestal, the person they believed would set them free was the same person who massacred the people and killed their friends? Their hero was their enemy?

Every offer to help them get back the Girl was immediately withdrawn. The public refuses to help them, refuses to offer a hand like they had just a few weeks ago. This is exactly what Korse wanted. They’re doing just as he had planned, and they don’t have the time to change the public’s opinion.

Now it’s just up to the Fab Four to save the Girl. 

Hot Chimp still offers her hand. Ghoul has a feeling she knew Party Poison’s history. Newsagogo is neutral. 

Ghoul knows Newsagogo’s coldness stings Party Poison far worse than anything else that has come out of this shitshow. 

Still, she’s the only help they have. Cherri Cola hasn’t been seen since the radio broadcast. Show Pony will be going undercover at a rehabilitation center. They’ll be sneaking them all the information they can. Hot Chimp’s only offered to be their getaway ride.

They’re going to fail.

-

They still try to get supplies from anyone that’ll listen. Some people offer them scraps and nothing more. They’ll take what they can get.

They hit up Tommy Chow Mein’s shop. It’s a desperate attempt, since they have very little money, but they need supplies and no one will trade them. 

Party Poison goes to check out while the others are still searching. Kobra Kid and Jet Star are looking for a certain type of wrench. Show Pony’s clowning around in the fashion department, although they’re supposed to be getting supplies for their big mission. Ghoul is half heartedly searching for some materials for his bombs. However, Ghoul immediately turns his attention to Party Poison and Tommy.

He’s not eavesdropping, per ce. 

Tommy Chow Mein stares at Party Poison. He taps the can of food. “Twelve carbons.”

“The sign says six.”

“Twelve carbons for _you_.” Tommy’s face is hard. 

Party Poison sighs. “Tommy, I’m dying anyway. When I go to Battery City, I’m not coming back out. You won’t have to see my face ever again. Just… let me buy some food, okay?”

Tommy softens. For some godforsaken reason that Ghoul has yet to unravel, Tommy Chow Mein has an imperceptible yet glaringly large soft spot for Party Poison. Ghoul thinks it’s because Party Poison reminds him of his niece, who was a killjoy with flaming red hair and a spitting wit. Ghoul met her years ago, and she was a true bombshell. The same niece who had died nine years ago by Party Poison’s own hands.

(Ghoul remembers that news report. And Ghoul remembers how the store was closed for three days. The store had never closed before- it was open twenty four seven, acid rain and Scarecrows be damned.)

Party Poison killed his niece. And yet Tommy Chow Mein slides the can towards them. “I don’t charge corpses for simply existing.”

And Tommy walks away, heading straight towards Show Pony who’s trying on a pair of Hello Kitty rollerblades, and yelling is absolutely heard in the seconds that follow. But Ghoul’s attention is still on Party Poison, who is staring after Tommy Chow Mein like he gave them the key to defeating BLi.

Maybe he did.

-

It’s been three months since the Girl was taken. The Fab Four finally sit down and have a discussion, because this is looking bleaker and bleaker.

“No one’s going to help us.” Party Poison states it as a fact. “It’s just us four. So how are we going to do this?”

“We can’t go covert. We’d have to rely on a lot of outide to get us inside, and there’s no way we’re getting that.” Jet Star looks tired. “We’ll have to go in, guns blazing.”

“That’s suicide,” Kobra immediately interjects.

“There’s no other choice. We can’t get inside any other way. Show Pony’s already risking so much to get us information. They couldn’t sneak us in single handedly. It’s either we blast our way in, or we don’t get in at all.”

“We know where the Girl is.” Party raps their fingers on the table. “We know what cell, what part of the building she’s in. So we’re not going in blind.”

“You really think we’ll even get that far? Do you know how many people guard Bat City’s outerwall?”

“Three people during the day, seven at night. If we go in the middle of the day, BLi will be caught off guard. They’re expecting us to sneak in at night. They’ll be more guarded during the night, so we’ll strike during the day.”

“You want us to go during broad day light?” Ghoul can’t believe his ears. “That really is suicide!”

“Like Jet said, there’s no point in sneaking in. We don’t have a choice.”

“We’re going to die if we do that.” It’s a fact. “All of us are going to get massacred. We’re attacking the largest rehab in the city, which is conveniently also the headquarters and is located dead in the center. We’d be lucky to make it to the doors!”

“It’s improbable that we’d be able to get inside!” Kobra Kid is running his fingers through his hair. “The odds are next to none that we’d be able to get the Girl and get her back out when we can barely get in!” 

“We have a chance. I don’t care how slim it is. I’m taking it.”

“We’re going to die, Party! We have to think this more carefully! We need more time!”

“We don’t have more time. It’s already been three months, who knows what they’re going to do to her!” Especially if they find out about her lineage. Especially if they find out about her strange powers.

The words are unspoken, but Ghoul can hear them just as clearly.

“Maybe they’ve already done something.” The words feel nasty, but they have to be said. “How do we know they haven’t already fucked her up? What if this is a lost cause?”

“Then it’s a lost cause I’ll still die for.” Party Poison clenches their fist. “We have to save her. We have to go.”

“Party Poison.” Jet’s voice is soft. “We won’t survive. We can’t be sure the Girl will. Are you really willing to die for this?”

“I’m not.” Ghoul stands up. “I’m not going to die for something I don’t believe in. There’s no way we’ll succeed! I don’t want to die for something stupid and hopeless!”

He doesn’t want to die for the Girl, if he’s honest. He loves her, he does- she’s like the little sister he’ll never have. But is she worth throwing away all their hard work? Is she worth the all four of them? Should they throw away their lives when she could already be dead?

Ghoul doesn’t want to die. Maybe he’s being selfish (he’s definitely being selfish), but god damn, he doesn’t want to throw away the remaining years he has. He’s only twenty five. What would he be dying for?

Party Poison is selfish. It’s a trait Ghoul knows well from them. They’re an attention whore, they don’t always listen to others, they won’t teach their tricks, they withhold information. But they’re also incredibly selfless. They’ve died for their friends, they’ve given up their rations for the Girl, they’ve risked their life time and time again to go against BLi and to speak up for what’s right.

Party Poison, in this moment, is being selfless.

“I won’t force you to do anything. Obviously, that’s not how we operate. If you don’t want to do this, then you don’t have to.” Party is solemn. “Don’t die for something you don’t believe in.”

Party Poison stands up, and loudly pushes their chair in. They slam a fist on the palm of their hand. “But I’m going to do this, with or without any of your help. I’m going to go to Battery City, and if I have to fight every Drac single-handedly, then I will. This is a cause I will die for.”

Party Poison moves to leave. They open the door, but they glance back. If Ghoul looks closely, he might see tears brimming. “Figure out what’s worth fighting for. Figure out what hill you’d die on before we continue this discussion.”

They walk out.

Ghoul feels strangely hollow.

What would he die for?

-

Minutes later, and Ghoul goes outside. Party Poison is sitting on the diner steps, their face between their hands. Ghoul sits down next to them, waiting.

“You’re really willing to die for the Girl?” Ghoul asks. Party Poison is selfish. Party Poison is selfless. Ghoul hates how grey Party Poison is, hates that it can’t all be black and white so he could understand them.

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation there. Ghoul wonders if that’s only because their perception of death has been so skewed. Would they still be willing to die if they hadn’t done it so many times? If the Phoenix Witch wasn’t in love with them and wasn’t waiting for them? 

“Aren’t you afraid?”

There’s a pause. Party Poison glances back up. Their eyes are glassy. “Yes.”

“But why? The Witch will let you come back. You still have a destiny to fulfill.” The bitterness was more than Ghoul meant to give, but he was bitter. Ghoul isn’t promised a tomorrow. He isn’t promised a destiny that’s down the line. He isn’t promised his death will mean anything.

“She won’t.”

“What? Why?”

Party Poison’s eyes harden. They watch Ghoul, a bitter expression carved in their face. “Because this is my destiny.”

Oh.

Ghoul isn’t promised a tomorrow. But he isn’t promised that he’ll die, either. Party Poison is. They know how much time they have left.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ghoul whispers. “It’s your fate. It’s your choice.”

“And I choose to die.” Party Poison rubs their eyes. “I know, I know. Destiny isn’t set in stone, we all have free will. The Witch only told me my fate because She wanted me to choose a different path. She told me my destiny because She wanted me to go down a different path. Because I have the choice.”

The Phoenix Witch doesn’t want Party Poison to die. The fact makes Ghoul’s blood run cold. She wrote their destiny with a crow feather and some ink. And now She’s telling them to ignore it.

“I don’t have to die. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. I could choose to let her rot in the hands of BLi. But I can’t. I can’t do that. Not to her, not to my own daughter. I want her to be free, I want her to live. And if I have to die for that to happen, then so be it.” Party Poison puts their head back in their hands. “It’s not a choice. It’s the illusion of one. The Witch knows the decision I’ll pick, because I would pick it in every lifetime. I choose to die.”

A heart wrenching sob escapes Party Poison’s lips. Ghoul watches as they crumble before him, watches as the fire within their soul extinguishes from the agony. They do the impossible.

Party Poison cries.

Ghoul has never seen them cry. Not when Jet Star and the Kobra Kid went missing for three weeks and were presumed dead. Not when they got captured by a group of Dracs once and Ghoul had to dislocate their wrist so they could slip out of the handcuffs and escape. Not when they realised the Girl had been captured. Ghoul just didn’t think they were capable; he always assumed BLi had axed their tear ducts or something.

Their tears are silent. They shiver and shake with the terrors of unreleased wails.

“I’m afraid to die,” they whisper, and Ghoul knows what they mean by dying. Because they’re not afraid to die, they’ve done that countless times and it means they’ll finally be reunited with the Phoenix Witch. That’s not the reason they’re terrified out of their mind. They’re afraid to fulfill their destiny.

They’re afraid to fulfill the prophecy. They’re afraid of their story coming to an end, they're afraid of the curtain closing on their last grand act, they’re afraid of not living. They’re afraid of not being important, they’re afraid of becoming a legend, because that’s not what they want. They don’t want to be a hero, they don’t want to become a story passed from children to children.

They just want redemption.

And now they’ll never fulfill it. They’ll never make up for all the atrocities they committed. They’ll never avenge the people they killed. They just want to become good, which is the longest and most rocky road they could have chosen.

Ghoul suddenly realises that they’re twenty four. They’re younger than him, and they created a rebellion through their voice, and now they were going to die, and they had to realise the rebellion may not live without them.

Ghoul doesn’t know what to do, but he can try. So he wraps his arm around Party Poison, and he pulls them tight, and he doesn’t let go. They sit there in the darkness of the night, blanketed in frost, and Ghoul listens to Party Poison’s sobs. 

A crow caws in the distance.

Ghoul knows their time is limited.

-

They eventually come together. They agree to go on the mission together, because they’ll either all survive together or they’ll all die together. That’s how they operate: together.

They devise a plan, and they go through with it. They race through Battery City in broad daylight, they take down some guards, and they infiltrate the headquarters.

BLi’s been waiting for them. This was their master plan, after all. Lure them inside Battery City, and never let them out. It’s a trap, and they know that. 

They fight as they always do- fierce, defiant, and passionately. They won’t go down without taking as much as they can with them. They won’t go down without a fight.

And they don’t.

They all fight to their last breath.

Ghoul watches as Party Poison accidentally unmasks a Drac. Ghoul watches Cherri Cola fall to the ground. Ghoul watches Party Poison falter, watches as Korse takes the opportunity. He watches Korse corner Party Poison, watches helplessly as Party Poison stares Korse in the eye, tilts their dead back defiantly and spits at him.

He watches the shot go through their head.

He watches them reach out, watches the Girl watch them with fear and terror. He watches them whisper, “Keep running.”

He watches them die.

He watches Kobra Kid go absolutely ballistic. He watches him shoot Korse in a frenzy, screaming and crying as he becomes unhinged, because his sibling just died right in front of him. He watches as Kobra eventually gets shot down, watches as he still fights until his last breath.

Ghoul dies not long after. And he knows Jet Star will too, because that’s how it will work. They’re going to go down together, just as they wanted.

The Girl survives.

They won.

-

The sky is white, and black holes twinkle in the strange light. Ghoul knows where he is.

The Witch watches him curiously. She wears Her mask and remains as expressionless as ever, yet sometimes Ghoul can imagine the face She’s making.

“You’re quite the hero, Ghoul.” She inches closer. Ghoul sees the breeze rustle Her robes, and he sees so many of the things Party Poison gave to Her. He sees bangles, bracelets, prayer beads, watches, necklaces, earrings, pins. He sees Party Poison.

“No.” Ghoul shakes his head. “I’m not.”

“Dying for someone else always makes you a hero.” She towers over him, and yet Ghoul isn’t afraid. Ghoul feels as if he’s talking to a friend. “Tell me, what’s on your mind? Are you afraid?”

“Strangely enough, no.” Ghoul hums. “I’m not scared. I think I’m at peace.”

“Why’s that?”

“My story’s complete. And the Girl gets to finish her’s. I didn’t want to die, obviously, but I see why I have to now.” He watches Her. “Sometimes you have to step aside for the new generation.”

“Your parents are proud of you.” And yeah, that statement causes his heart to squeeze. “I suppose you don’t want to make a trade with me?”

“Did anyone else?”

The Witch shakes Her head. “You’re the last of the three. Jet Star had nothing to trade. Kobra Kid just wants to stay with their sibling. They’re tired of fighting. They’re ready to rest. Are you?”

Ghoul never thought he would say yes. He always envisioned himself just surviving, always envisions struggling. He had no time to rest in the desert- it was always a struggle to find supplies, to lead a rebellion, to raise a child, to find enough food. And Ghoul was too angry to ever let himself be calm, to rest.

But here he is now. Ghoul smiles. “I’m ready.”

The Witch doesn’t seem surprised. “Kobra Kid and Jet Star are waiting for you.”

She offers a hand. Ghoul takes it. Her touch isn’t cold anymore. 

“And Party Poison?”

The Witch stares off into the distance. “It’s… complicated.”

Ghoul immediately took back his hand. “The fucker lived? They’re not coming?”

The Witch placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, you saw them get shot. They’re dead. But it’s just that they can’t pass on like you and your brothers.”

“Why?”

“Their mask plays a very important role in the future. It’s integral to the Girl’s destiny and the destiny of so many others. I can not collect it until after it served its purpose.”

Ghoul spies the masks in Her shopping cart. He sees Jet Star’s astronaut helmet, he sees Kobra Kid’s Good Luck motorcycle helmet, he sees his own Frankenstein mask. “Masks are the anchors to people's souls. If I can not collect their mask, they can not move on into the next life.”

“So where does that leave Party?” 

“A ghost.” The Witch grips the handle bar of the shopping cart tightly. “There are many ghosts in the desert, I’m sure you know. Souls that are trapped in between life and death until someone sends something in the mailbox so I may use it to guide their soul.”

“Will no one send something for Party Poison?”

“No.” The Witch sighs. “They don’t know I can’t take their mask.”

“Will they come?”

“Yes. But it will be a few years.”

“Will they stay?” That’s the most important question.

The Witch doesn’t say a word. Ghoul can feel the smile on Her face. 

“Will they?”

“Well, that depends on them.” She shrugs. “It’s their choice.”

Ghoul knows what they’ll choose. Party Poison never knows when to stop, never knows when to rest. But he thinks The Witch will be able to guide them into a peaceful choice.

Ghoul takes Her hand. “I’ll wait for them.”

“Good. Jet Star and Kobra Kid are getting antsy.”

“One more question.” Ghoul holds up a finger. “Can I see your face?”

She stares at him. “Why?”

“Party Poison says the Girl looks like you. I want to know if they’re right. Besides, I’m dead. Who am I gonna tell?”

She hums. She’s thinking through his proposition. Without warning, She lifts up Her mask. It’s only for a few seconds, but it’s enough for Ghoul.

Party Poison wasn’t kidding.

“Now, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

She squeezes his hand. Together, they walk. Ghoul doesn’t know where they are headed, but he doesn’t mind. He’s at peace.

“It’s time to rest.”

Twelve years later, Ghoul watches the Witch bring back a very confused redhead. He watches them embrace. And he smiles to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: i wrote most of this while looping zero percent.
> 
> anyway don’t assume Party posons agab. the Witch is a god who fucking knows what She has.
> 
> i dont know if they ever explained how the girl got her powers, but i always thought this would be an interesting explanation.
> 
> thank you for reading! please comment!


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